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TWENTY YEARS AFTER 


ALEXANDRE DUMAS 


TRANSLATED FROM THE LATEST FRENCH 
EDITION 



NEW YORK : 46 East 14TH Street 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 


'FZ3 

.31‘3<=1 

1*8 


Copyright, 1S9S, 

BY 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 



TWO COPIES RECEIVED. 

C 

* ' < 

* I ^ 

t < 4 



BOSTON 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Shade of Kichelieu 1 

II. A Night Bound 10 

III. Two Old Enemies 19 

IV. Anne of Austria at Eorty-six . . 34 

V. Gascon and Italian 43 

VI. D’Artagnan at Forty 49 

VII. D’Artagnan is in some Embarrass- 
ment, BUT One of our Old Acquaint- 

ANCES COMES TO HIS AlD 55 

VIII. The Different Effects which Half 
A Pistole has on a Beadle and on 

A Choir-boy 64 

IX. How D’Artagnan, looking for Aramis 

FAR AWAY, FOUND HIM ON THE CrUP- 
PER, BEHIND PlANCHET 71 

X. The Abbé d’Herblay 78 

XI. The Two Gaspards 87 

XII. M. PoRTHOs DU Vallon de Bracieux 

DE PlERREFONDS 97 


XIII. How D’Artagnan discovered, during 

HIS Visit to Porthos, that Fortune 
DOES NOT ENSURE HAPPINESS . . . 102 

XIV. In wfich it is shown that although 

Porthos was greati-y dissatisfied 
WITH HIS Lot, Mousqueton was 


VERY WELL CONTENTED WITH HIS . Ill 

XV. Two Angelic Heads 118 

A. VI. The Château de Bragelonne . . . 126 

XVII. • Athos’s Diplomacy 133 

XVIII. M. DE Beaufort 143 

XIX. How M. DE Beaufort amused himself 

IN THE Prison at Vincennes . . . 149 

XX. Grïmâud goes on Duty 159 


IV 


CONTEj\ ts. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXI. What the Pies of Father Marte au’s 

Successor contained 171 

XXII. One of Marie Michon’s Adventures, 181 

XXIII. The Abbe Scarron 194 

XXIV. Saint Denis 210 

XXV. One of M. de Beaufort’s Forty 

Methods of Escape . . . . . 218 

XXVI. D’Artagnan arrives just in the Xick 

OF Time 229 

XXVII. The High Eoad 238 

XXVIII. The Engagement 245 

XXIX. Four Old Friends prepare for a 

Meeting 254 

XXX. The Place Royale 262 

XXXI. The Ferry on the Oise 268 

XXXII. The Skirmish 276 

XXXIII. The Monk 282 

XXXIV. The Absolution 293 

XXXV. Grimaud speaks 299 

XXXVI. The Eve of Battle 305 

XXXVII. An Olden-times Dinner 316 

XXXVIII. The Letter of Charles the First . 325 

XXXIX. Cromwell’s Letter 330 

XL. Mazarin and Queen Henrietta . . 337 

XLI. How the Unfortunate sometimes 

TAKE Chance for Providence . 343 

XLII. Uncle and Xephew ....... 351 

XLIII. Fatherhood 355 

XLIV. Another Queen who asks Assistance, 364 
XLV. In which it is proved that the First 

Impulse is always the Best . . . 375 

XLVI. The Te Deum for the Victory at 

Lens 382 

XLVII. The Mendicant of St. Eustache . . 401 

XL VIII. The Tower of Saint Jacques-la- 

Boucherie 411 

XLIX. The Commotion 417 

L. The Commotion becomes an Insur- 
rection 424 

LI. Misfortune a Help to Memory . . 436 

LII. The Interview 443 


CO,^TENTS, ' V 

CHAPTER PAGE 

LIII. The Flight 449 

LIY. The Coadjutor’s Carriage .... 461 

LV. How D’Artagnax gained Two Hun- 
dred AND Nineteen, and Porthos 
T wo Hundred and Fifteen, Louis 

BY selling Straw 474 

LVI. News from Aramis 483 

LYII. The Faithless, Perjured Scotsman 
SOLD HIS Monarch for a Bit of 

Gold ” 494 

LVIII. The Avenger 502 

LIX. Oliver Cromwell 511 

LX. The Gentlemen 516 

LXI. JÉSUS Seigneur 522 

LXII. In which it is proved that, in the 
Most Difficult Situations, Great 
Hearts never lose their. Courage 
OR Good Stomachs their Appetites, 529 
LXIII. Health to Fallen Majesty . . . 537 

LXIV. D’Artagnan finds a Plan .... 545 

LXY. The Game of Lansquenet .... 557 

LXVI. London 563 

LXVII. The Trial 570 

LXVIII. Whitehall 580 

LXIX. The Workmen 588 

LXX. Bemember ! 596 

LXXI. The Man with the Mask .... 603 

LXXII. Cromwell’s House 612 

LXXIII. Conversation 620 

LXXIV. The Felucca Thunderbolt ”... 630 

LXXV. The Port Wine ..." 641 

LXXVI. The Port AVine. (Continuation.) . . 651 

LXXAHI. Fatality 655 

LXXA^III. Wherein, after having narrowly 

ESCAPED BEING ROASTED, MOUSQUETON 
AVAS VERY NEAR BEING EATEN . . 663 

LXXIX. The Return 671 

LXXX. The Ambassadors 679 

LXXXI. The Generalissimo’s Three Lieuten- 
ants 687 

LXXXII. The Combat of Charenton . . . . 701 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

LXXXIII. The Eoad to Picardy 711 

LXXXIV. . The Gratitude of Anne of Austria, 719 
LXXXV. M. DE Mazarin’s Royalty . . . . 724 

LXXXVI. Precautions 728 

LXXXVII. Mind and Arm 784 

LXXXVIII. Mind and Arm. (Continuation.) . . 738 

LXXXIX. Arm and Mind 743 

XC. Arm and Mind. (Continuation.) . . 745 

XCI. M. DE Mazarin’s Oubliettes . . . 752 

XCII. Conferences 756 

XCIII. Wherein it begins to be Credible 

THAT PORTHOS MAY AT LAST BECOME 

A Baron and D’Artagnan a Cap- 
tain 762 

XCIV. How A Thing may be better and 

MORE SPEEDILY ACCOMPLISHED BY THE 

Pen and a Threat than by the 

Sword and Devotion 771 

XCV. How A Thing may be better and 

MORE SPEEDILY ACCOMPLISHED BY THE 

Pen and a Threat than by the 
Sword and Devotion. (Continua- 
tion.) 779 

XCyi. In which it is proved that some- 

times IT IS More Difficult for 
Kings to reenter the Capital of 
THEIR Realm than to leave it . 785 

XCVII. In which it is proved that some- 

times IT IS MORE Difficult for 
Kings to reenter the Capital of 
THEIR Realm than to leave it. 

(Continuation.) 792 

XCVIII. Conclusion 796 



D’ARTAGNAN TOOK THE LETTER AND PUT HIS HAND TO HIS HAT 


I 





TWENTY YEARS 


AFTER. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE SHADE OF RICHELIEU. 

In a room of the Palais Cardinal, with which we are alre .fh- 
acquainted, near a gilt-cornered tabic covered with papers aq , , 
books, was sitting a man with his hands supporting his heg d. ' 
Behind him was an enormous hreplaee, re<l with lii-e, Uie' 
burning bra.nds of which were crumbling on large gilded i h 
irons. The firelight fell on the back of this thinker^s splei ' o / 
garment, which was at the same time illumined in front 1.;. a 
candelabrum filled with wax candles. . 

At the jiight of that red robe and those rich laces, of u im- 
pale brow furrowed by thought, of the solitude of that cabi 
the silence of the antechambei b, and the measured step: m , 

the (diiards in the corridor, one might have imagined that 

shade of the (/ardinal Richelieu was still in the room. . j 
Alasi it was indeed only the shade of that great 
Franche enfeebled, the King’s authority disregarded, the noî V 
grown over-weening and turbulent, the enemy within the I've-j,; 
tiers, — everything. Wc'ut to prove that Pdchelieii was no 
there. 

But what proved, even more than all this, that the rod p>:h 4 .‘ 
was not the old Cardinal’s was that solitude which, as we ha 
said, was like a ])ha,utom’s rather than a living bei?ig’s. It ] 

shown by the corridors without courtiers, the courts fn ' : J 

Guards, — the sentiment of mockery arising from the s' ' 
and penetrating through the windows into this chamber, w . ' I 
w’as shaken by the breath of a whole city leagued against j 
minister, - - lastly, by the distant sound of inces.sant liring, 
pily w.\thont object or results, but merely to show the 
and Swiss, tjiti Musketeers and soldiers surrounding the P d 
Royal (for 6U'en the Palais (’ardinal had changed its na uc -, 
that the people also had arms. . /r 

This chade oî Richelieu was Mazarin. 


TWENTY YEATS AFTE:R. 


.'Tazarin was now alone, and he felt that he was weak. 
Foreigner!’’ he imirnuiêd — ‘^Italian! That is the re- 
leh they ca.st at me ! With that word they assassinate»! 

^ hanged and de stroyed Concini ; and, if I allowed them, 
would in like manner assassinate and hang and destroy 
• ; thoiign I have never done them any other harm than to 
l-ress tliem a little. The fools ! They do not perceive that 
r enemy is not this Italian, who speaks bad French, but 
ler those who have the talent to make fine speeches to them 
1 such a pure Parisian accent. Yes, yes,” continued the 
■ ister, with his shrewd smile, which now appeared strange 
lis pale lips, — yes, your murmurs declare that the lot of 
uirites is precarious But if you know that, you ought 
. to know that I am not a coinmou fa^murite. The Earl of 
ex had a splendid ring; enriched with diamonds, which liis 
il mistress gave him. I have only a plain ring, with a 
ler and a, date ; but this ring has been blessed in the chapel 
the Palais Boy ai. ^ Therefore, they shall not destroy me at 
eir pleasure. They do not perceive that, wdth their eternal 
y of ^ Bow 11 wdth Mazariu ! ’ T make them sometimes cry, 
uOiig live M. de Beaufort,’ sometiiui - ’ ^ Long live the Prince,’ 
'll 1 soinetinies ^Success to the Parliament.-’ Very well ! M. 

•^•:"P.eauiort is at Vincennes ; tlie~ih:iiice_ will join him there, 
r le day or other ; and the Parliament’’ 

lere the Cardinal’s smile assumed an expression of which 
'e mild countenance appeared Incapable. 

^ Well, the Parliament — we will see what we shall cio with 
We hav»^ Orléans and Montargis. Oh ■ I will give it time 
; ..nigh:, but those who have begnn witn crying ^ i>ov, with 
.zaviii ’ will finish by crying ‘ Down with all those gentry,’ 
v.iiy one in his turn. Bichelieu, whom they hated while he 
, :;S living, and of whom they are always talking now that li 
dead, was lower than I am; 'for he was frequently driven 
. mi power, and still more frequently feared that he .should l:-e. 
he Queen will never discard me ; and if T am obliged to give 
to the people, she will yield with me. If I fly, she will fly 
',10 ; and then we shall see what these rebels will do with» 'ii; 
; eir Queen or their King. Oh ! if only I was not a foie'-gner ! 
only I was a Frenchman ! If oiil}" 1 was a gentleman ! ” 

Ænd he re’apsed into meditation. 

^ It IB -well kuo.-wn that Mazariu, haviP" taken none of the ordere CiP.t p- -vent 
.rriaye, had prWuiviy espouted Unuo of Austria. 


I 


THE SHADE OF RICHELIEU. 


3 


In truth, his position was extremely difficult, and the day 
.vhich had just passed had much increased it. Mazarin, 
always spurred on by his sordid avarice, was overwhelming the 
people with taxes ; and this people, with nothing left but their 
lives (which, as the Attorney-General Talon said, could not be 
sold by auction), — this people, whom they were trying to calm 
by the rumour of victories won, from the laurels of which no 
uM.tritious food could be obtained, — this people had long since 
gun to murmur. 

But this was not all. For when it is only the common 
people that complain, the Court, kept at a distance from them 
by the barrier of richer citizens and the gentry, never hears 
of it. But Mazarin had been so imprudent as to defy the 
magistrates. He had sold a dozen appointments as maîtres de 
requêtes ; and as these officers paid very dear for their com- 
missions, and as the addition of these new members would 
Inwer the emoluments of the others, they had united, and 
sworn on the Gospels that they would not submit to this aug- 
V ir:entation of their number, and that they would resist all the 
I persecutions of the Court, — mutually agreeing that, if any one 
Ï oi them should lose his office through this rebellion, the rest 

t would subscribe and make up his loss. 

Now this is what these two parties had brought about : 

On the seventh of January, seven or eight hundred mer- 
i 7 chants of Paris had assembled and protested against a new 
I tax which the Government wished to impose on house-owners ; 

and they had deputed ten of their number to lay their griev- 
fc:iice before the Due d’Orléans, who, according to his old 

i iiabits, courted popularity. The Due d’Orléans had received 
til 3 m, and they had assured him that they were determined 
^.not to pay this new tax, even if they were obliged to defend 
lemselves by force against the King’s officers, who might at- 
ttempt to collect it. The Due d’Orléans had listened to them 
^ 'vith great complaisance, had given them reason to hope for 
' some remission, had promised to speak to the Queen in their 
fevour, and had dismissed them with the ordinary expression 
of princes — We will see.” 

On their side, on the ninth, the maîtres de requêtes had gone 
£0 the Cardinal ; and one of them, who spoke for the others, 
had talked to him with such boldness and resolution that the 
Ca rdinal was quite astonished. He had therefore dismissed 
i ;M.*.m, saying ,as the Due d’Orléans had said, — We will see.” 


4 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Then, in order to see, they had assembled the Council, and 
had sent for D’Emery, the superintendent of finances. 

This D’Éinery was greatly detested by the people; first, 
because he was the /superintendent of finances, and every 
superintendent of finances ought to be detested ; and then, it 
must be confessed, because he somewhat deserved to be. 

He was the son of a Lyons banker, who was named Parti- 
celli, and who, having changed his name after becoming bank- 
rupt, caused himself to be called D’Émery.^ The Cardinal de 
Richelieu, who had discovered great financial talents in him, 
had introduced him to Louis XIIT. under the name of M. 
d’ Emery, and, as he wished him to be appointed superintendent 
of the finances, he spoke very highly of him. 

Excellent ! ’’ the King replied. I am very glad that you 
have spoken to me of M. d’Émery for this place, which requires 
an honest man. I was told that you would propose "that rascal 
Particelli, and I feared that you would oblige me to take him.’’ 

Sire,” replied the Cardinal, your Majesty may make 
yourself perfectly easy ; the Particelli of whom you speak was 
hanged ! ” 

“ So much the better,” answered the King. “So it is not 
for nothing that I am called Louis the Just.” And he signed 
the nomination of M. d’Emery. 

It was this same D’Emery who had become the superintendent, 
of finances. 

The minister had sent for him, and he hastened to the 
palace, pale and frightened, declaring that his son had, thaï 
very day, narrowly escaped assassination in the Place di 
Palais. The mob had met him, and had blamed him for th( 
extravagance of his wife, who had an apartment hung with reel 
velvet with gold fringes. She was the daughter of Kichola;: 
Le Camus, who became secretary to the King in 1617, coming 
to Paris with twenty livres and, after reserving forty thouskno 
livres income for himself, had just divided nine million i. 
amongst his children. 

D’Émery’s son had been .learly smothered, one of the rioteru 
having proposed to squeeze him un^ he had disgorged the goh \ 
which he had swallowed. The Council determined nothin^r 
that day ; the superintendent being too much occupied with i 
that event to have his head very clear. 

1 And yet the Attorney-General, Omer Talon, always called him M. Particelli, in 
accordance with the custom of the time in Frenchifying foreign names. 


THE SHADE OF^ RICHELIEU. 


5 


, The next day, the first president, Mathieu Mole, whose 
rage-in all these affairs, says the Cardinal de Retz, equalled 
i;!i:.t of the Due de Beaufort and the Prince de Condé, that is 
10 say, of the two men who were considered the bravest in 
Er.once, — the next day the first president had been attacked 
in his turn. The people threatened to inflict upon him the 

Hs which were inflicted on themselves. But the first presi- 
dent had replied with his accustomed calmness, without being 
either disturbed or surprised, that if the rioters did not obey 
.he King’s wishes, he would have gallows erected in all the 
scpiares, to hang incontinently the most mutinous among them. 
To which they had answered that they desired nothing more 
than that gallows should be prepared, as they would serve to 
hang the unrighteous judges who purchased the favour of the 
Court at the price of the people’s poverty. 

Kor wp.s this all. On the eleventh, the Queen, going to Mass 
at Notre Dame, as she did regularly every Saturday, had been 
To lowed by more than two hundred women, crying out and 
lemanding justice. They had not, however, any evil intentions, 
'ul y wishing to throw themselves on their knees before her, to 
encieavour to excite her pity. But the Guards prevented them ; 
and the Queen passed by haughty and stern, without heeding 
their clamours. 

In the afternoon another Council was held, and then it was 
di'.'crmined to uphold the King’s authority, and, inconsequence, 
the I’arliament was convoked for the next day, the twelfth. 

Gil this day, during the evening of which we are beginning 
our new history, the King, then ten years old, and just 
re< e' ered from the small-pox, had, on the pretence of going to 
rH : in thanks for his recovery at Notre Dame, mustered his 
Guards, his Swiss and Musketeers, who were stationed round 
the Palais Royal, on the Quais and the Pont Neuf ; and after 
having heard Mass, he had proceeded to the Parliament, where, 
a court of judicature being suddenly held, he had not only 
m lintained the edicts that had been passed, but had also 
enartod five or six new ones ; ea^h one,” says the Cardinal de 
Ret/, ^^more destructive than tlife "other.” So that the first 
president, who, as we have seen, was on the former sittings in 
favo'ir of the Court, boldly inveighed against this mode of bring- 
ing ' he King to the palace, unduly to influence their votes. 

) ’t the president, Blancmesnil, and the councillor, Broussel, 
wei Rose who spoke the most forcibly against the new taxes. 


6 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


The edicts being passed, the King returned to the Palais 
Koyal. A vast multitude was collected on his route ; but as it 
was known that he came from the Parliament, and it was 
uncertain whether he had been there to render justice to the 
people or to oppress them anew, not one single exclamation of 
joy broke forth to congratulate him on his recovery. On the 
contrary, every countenance was sullen and disturbed — some 
were even threatening. 

Notwithstanding the King’s return, the troops remained 
drawn up. They feared that some disturbance might break 
out when the result of this sitting of the Parliament was 
known. In fact, scarcely had the rumour been spread abroad 
that, instead of lightening the imposts, the King had increased 
them, before groups were formed, and the streets resounded 
with cries of Down with Mazarin ! ’’ Long live Broussel ! ” 
“ Long live Blancmesnil ! ” For the people had heard that 
Broussel and Blancmesnil had spoken in their favour, and they 
were not the less grateful for their eloquence, although it had 
proved futile. 

Efforts had been made to disperse these groups, and to silence 
these cries ; but, as always happens in such cases, the groups 
had increased and the cries redoubled. The order had just 
been given to the Boyal and Swiss Guards, not only to keep 
firm, but to establish patrols in the Hue St. Denis and the Rue 
St.- Martin, where the mobs appeared to be the most numerous 
and animated, when the provost was announced at the Palais 
Royal. 

He was instantly admitted, and announced that unless these 
hostile demonstrations were immediately ended, in two hours 
all Paris would be in arms. 

They were deliberating on what was to be done, when Con ' 
minges, a lieutenant in the Guards, entered, with his dresr. 
torn and his face covered with blood. On seeing him thu-j 
enter, the Queen uttered a cry of surprise, and demanded th- 
cause. 

He informed them that on the appearance of the Guards, 
as the provost had foreseen, the mir N of the people had b»; 
come exasperated. They had taken possession of the bells, an d 
sounded the tocsin. Comminges had kept his ground, had 
arrested a man who appeared to be a ringleader, and, to makr. 
an example, had ordered him to be hanged at the Croix 
Trahoir. The soldiers dragged him away to execute this c<.;in 


THE SHADE OF RICHELIEU, 


7 


mand ; but at the market-place," they were attacked with 
stones and halberds ; and the rebel, taking advantage of this, 
had made his escape, gained the Rue des Lombards, and had 
there thrown himself into a house, of which the doors had been 
immediately forced. 

This violence, however, had been fruitless, as they had not 
been able to find the culprit. Comminges had left a detach- 
ment in the street, and, with the remainder of his forces, had 
returned to the Palais Royal, to give the Queen an account of 
what was going on. During his whole progress he had been 
followed by cries and threats ; several of his men had been 
wounded by stones and halberds ; and he himself had been struck 
by a stone which had cut open his eyebrow. 

Comminges’s story corroborated the provost’s opinion. They 
were not in a situation to make head against a serious revolt ; 
and so the Cardinal caused intelligence to be spread among the 
people that the troops were only drawn up on the Quais 
and the Pont Neuf on account of the ceremony, and were to 
be withdrawn immediately. In fact, about four o’clock in the 
afternoon they were all concentrated round the Palais Royal. 
One detachment was established at the Barrier des Sergents ; 
another at Quinze-Vingts ; and a third at the hill of St. Roch. 
The courts and the ground fioor were filled with Swiss and 
Musketeers, and it was resolved to await the result. 

This, then, was the state of affairs when we introduced our 
readers into the Cardinal Mazarin’s cabinet, which had formerly 
been Cardinal Richelieu’s. We have seen the state of mind 
in which he listened to the people’s murmurs which penetrated 
even to his ears, and to the gunshots which resounded even 
in his chamber. 

Suddenly he raised his head, with a slight frown on his 
brow, like a man who has made his decision, and fixing his 
eye on an enormous clock, whivh was just about to strike six, 
he took up a silver whistle, which was placed within his reach 
on the table, and blew it twice. 

A’ concealed door in the tapestry opened noiselessly and a 
man, dressed in blacky j'Hoftly entered the room and stood 
behind the Cardinal’s easy-chair. 

Bernouin,” said the Cardinal, without even turning his 
head, — for having whistled twice, he knew it must be his 
vfdet de chambre, — ^Mvhat Musketeers are on guard at the 
palace ? 


i 

8 TWfSN'rV YEARS AFTER. 

The Black Musketeers, monsignor ! ” 

What company ? 

“ Company of Treville.’’ 

Is there any officer of that company in the antechamber ? ’’ 
Lieutenant D’Artagnan.’^ 

A good officer, I believe ?” ' 

Yes, monsignor.” 

“ Give me a Musketeer’s uniform and help me to dress.” 

The valet left the room as softly as he had entered it, 
and returned a moment after, bringing the dress required. 

The Cardinal then, silent and pensive, began to divest him- 
self of the ceremonial garb which he had worn at the sitting 
of the Parliament, and to put on the military coat, which, 
owing to his former campaigns in Italy, he wore with some 
ease. Then, when he was completely dressed, he said — 

Go and find M. d’Artagnan.” 

And the valet this time left the room by the middle door, 
but as quiet and mute as ever. One would have said that he 
was a ghost. 

When he was left alone, the Cardinal looked at himself in 
a mirror with some satisfaction. He was still young, for he 
was scarcely forty-six years old. He was of an elegant figure, 
rather above the common height. His complexion was good ; 
his eyes full of fire ; the nose large, but well proportioned ; 
the forehead broad and majestic ; his hair was chestnuit land 
slightly curling ; the beard was darker than his hair, and well 
curled and graceful. Then he complacently put on his belt, 
and looked at his hands : they were very handsome, and he 
took the greatest care of them. Then putting aside the large 
military gloves of buckskin which he had already taken, he 
selected a pair of simple silk ones. 

At this moment the door opened. 

M. d’Artagnan,” said the valet. 

An officer entered. 

He was a man of about thirty-nine or forty years of age ; 
not tall, but well proportioned, though thin ; his eye quick and 
full of animation ; his beard black and his hair slightly gray, 
as is always the case when any one has lived too well or not 
well enough, aiid more especially when a man is of a very 
brown complexion. 

D’Artagnan took four steps into the cabinet, which he recog- 
nised as that where he had once visited Bichelieu ; and now, 


I 

THE SHADE OF RICHELIEU. 9 

seeing no one in it but a Musketeer in the dress of his own 
company, he fixed his eyes on this individual, and at the first 
glance he recognised the Cardinal under the uniform. 

He remained standing in a respectful but dignified attitude, 
and as became a man who in the course of his life had often 
found himself in the presence of the great. 

The Cardinal fixed on him an eye more keen than profound, 
studied him attentively, and then, after a few moments’ silence, 
said — 

I You are M. d’Artagnan, I believe ? ” 

I am, monsignor,” replied the officer. 

The Cardinal looked yet a moment longer at that head, so 
expressive of intelligence, at that animated face, the extreme 
‘ij vivacity of which had been somewhat calmed by years and 
(experience. But D’Artagnan bore the examination like a 
man who had before been scrutinized by eyes far more pierc- 
ing than those whose investigation he now sustained. 

“ Sir,” said the Cardinal, you will come with me ; or, 
rather, I am going with you.” 

I am at your service, monsignor,” replied D’Artagnan. 

I wish personally to visit the posts surrounding the 
Palais Boyal. Do you believe that there will be any danger 
in it ? ” 

“ Danger, monsignor ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan in astonish- 
ment ; and of what ? ” 

‘‘ The people are reported to be mutinous.” 

The uniform of the King’s Musketeers is much respected, 
mon signor ; and even if it Avere not so, I, with three of my 
men, would engage to put to flight a hundred of these clowns.” 

“ And yet you have seen what happened to Comminges ? ” 

M. Comminges belongs to the Guards, not to the Mus- 
keteers,” said D’Artagnan. 

You mean,” replied the Cardinal, smiling, that the Mus- 
keteers are better soldiers than the Guards.” 

Every one has a prejudice in favour of his own uniform, 
monsigiior.” 

Except myself, sir,” replied Mazarin, smiling ; for you 
see that I have left off my own to assume yours.” 

Ah, monsignor ! ” said D’Artagnan, that is modesty. 
As for me, I declare that had I that of your Eminence, I 
, should remain contented with it, and I would agree, if need 
j were, never to wear any other.” 


10 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Yes, but to go out with it this evening, it might not 
perhaps be quite so safe. Bernouin, my hat.’’ 

The valet returned, bearing a broad-brim uniform hat. The 
Cardinal put it on in a jaunty manner, and turning to D’Ar- 
tagnan — 

“ You have horses saddled in the stables, have you not ? ” 

Yes, monsignor.” 

Well, then, let us go.” 

How many men does monsignor wish me to take ? ” 

You have said that four men of you would engage to put 
a hundred of these clowns to flight ; therefore, as we might 
perchance meet two hundred, take eight.” 

“ As monsignor pleases.” 

I follow you. But by the way, not that way,” continued 
the Cardinal. ‘‘ Give us light, Bernouin.” 

The valet brought a candle, the Cardinal took a small key 
from his desk, and having opened the door of a secret stair- 
case, they soon found themselves in the courtyard of the Palais 
Eoyal. 


CHAPTER II. 

A NIGHT ROUND. 

Ten minutes afterward the little troop left the palace by 
the Rue des Bons-Enfants, behind the theatre which the Car- 
dinal de Richelieu had built for the performance of his play 
of Mirame,” and in which the Cardinal Ma - bi — a greater 
lover of music than of literature — had just uad brought on 
the stage the first operas ever represented in France. 

The aspect of the city showed every characteristic of extreme 
agitation. Numerous groups of men were running through 
the streets ; and when they saw the soldiers pass, they stopped, 
in spite of what D’Artagnan had said, with an air of threaten- 
ing mockery that indicated that the citizens had for the time 
laid aside their usual quietude for more warlike sentiments. 
From time to time sounds were heard from the direction of the 
market-place ; gunshots cracked in the Rue St. Denis ; and 
now and then suddenly, without any obvious cause, a bell 
began to ring, set in motion by the popular caprice. 

D’Artagnan pursued his course with the indifference of a 


A NIGHT ROUND. 


11 


man uninfluenced by such fooleries. When a crowd occupied 
the middle of the street, he pushed his horse through it with- 
out saying a warning word ; and as if those who were assembled, 
whether rebels or not, knew the kind of man they had to deal 
with, they gave way and allowed the patrol to pass on. The 
Cardinal envied this coolness, which he attributed to familiarity 
with danger ; but, at the same time, he accorded to the officer, 
under whose charge he had for the time placed himself, that 
sort of consideration which even prudence itself pays to heed- 
less courage. 

On approaching the post at the Barrier des Sergents, the 
sentinel cried out : 

“ Who goes there ? ” 

D’Artagnan answered, and, having asked the password of 
the Cardinal, went forward. The passwords were ‘‘ Louis ’’ 
and Rocroyl'^ 

After the exchange of these signals, D’Artagnan inquired 
whether M. de Comminges did not command this post. The 
sentinel pointed to an officer on foot, resting his hand on the 
neck of the horse of another individual, with whom he was 
conversing. It was he for whom D’Artagnan inquired. 

There is M. dev. Comminges,” said D’Artagnan, returning 
to the Cardinal. 

The Cardinal directed his horse toward them, while D’Ar- 
tagnan discreetly retired. Yet, by the way in which the two 
officers took off their hats, he perceived that they had at once 
recognised his Eminence. 

“ Bravo, Guitaut ! ” said the Cardinal to the horseman. 

I perceive thè't?, in spite of your sixty-four years, you are 
always the same* — ever on the alert and full of devotion. 
Whafc were you saying to this young man ? ” 

Monsignor,” replied Guitaut, “ I was remarking to him 
that we live at a singular period, and that this day much 
resembled one of those days of the league which I heard so 
much about in my youth. Do you know that they actually 
talked of erecting barricades in the Rue St. Denis and the 
Rue St. Martin ? ” 

And what did Comminges answer, my dear Guitaut ? ” 
Monsignor,” said Comminges, I answered that to make 
a league one thing ' was wanting, which appeared to me very 
essential, and that was a Due de Guise. Besides, the same 
thing is seldom done twice.” 


12 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


No ; but they will make a Fronde, as they call it,’’ said 
Giiitaut. 

And what is a Fronde ? ” asked Mazarin. 

It is thp name that they give to their party, monsignor.” 

And whence does this name arise ? ” 

“ It seems that, some days ago, the Councillor Bachaumont 
said, at the palace, that these rioters resembled the school 
boys who sling stones in the moats of Paris, and scatter when 
they see the policeman, and come back again when he is gone 
by. They caught up this word as the beggars at Brussels 
did; and they have called themselves frondeurs. Yester- 
day and to-day, everything is a la Fronde — loaves of bread, 
gloves, fans, muffs, and — there ! Listen now ! ” 

As this moment, in fact, a window was thrown open ; a man 
stood in it and began to sing : 

“ A breeze of the Fronde 
Did this morning begin ; 

It roared and it groaned 
Against Mazarin — 

That breeze of the Fronde 
The morning brought in I ” 

The insolent rascal ! ” murmured Guitaut. 

Monsignor,” said Comminges, whose wound had put him 
into a bad humour, and who was anxious to take his r.evenge, 

“ shall I send a ball at that scoundrel, to teach him not to . 
sing so out of tune another time ? ” And he reached towards 
the holsters on his uncle’s horse. 

No, no ! ” exclaimed Mazarin. Diavolo ! My dear friend, 
you will spoil everything. On the contrary, things are pro- 
ceeding marvellously well. I understand you Frenchmen as 
well as if I had made you, from the first to the last. They 
are singing — they will pay. At the time of the league, of 
which Guitaut was just now speaking, they sang nothing but 
the Mass. Come, Guitaut, come, let us go and see if they k(:.ep 
as good a lookout at Quinze- Vingts as they do at the Barrier 
des Sergents.” 

And saluting Comminges with his hand, he rejoined D’Artr 
gnan, who again put himself at the head of his small troop, a,n* ■ 
was followed by Guitaut and the Cardinal, who were in turn 
followed by the rest of the escort. j 

That is true,” murmured Comminges, looking at the Car ’ 


A NIGHT ROUND, 


13 


dinal’s retreating figure. “ I forgot that provided they pay, it 
will be quite sufficient for him.” 

They resumed their course down the Rue St. Honoré, making 
their way through groups of men, who were talking of nothing 
else but the edicts passed that day, and complaining of the 
young King who was ruining his people without knowing it. 
They attributed all their distress to Mazarin ; spoke of apply- 
ing to the Due d’Orléans and the Prince, and lauded Blanc- 
mesnil and Broussel. 

D’Artagnan passed through the midst of these crowds as if 
he and his horse had been composed of iron. Mazarin and 
Guitaut conversed in a low lone ; and the Musketeers, who 
had at last recognised the Cardinal, followed in silence. 

They reached the Rue Saint-Thomas du Louvre, where was 
the post of Quinze-Vingts. Guitaut called a subaltern, who 
came to make his report. 

Well ? ” demanded Guitaut. 

Ah, captain,” said the officer, everything is going on 
well in this quarter, except that I fancy something is taking 
place in that hôtel.” 

And he pointed to a magnificent mansion, situated on the 
very spot where tjje Vaudeville was afterwards erected. 

‘‘ Why, that is the Hôtel Rambouillet,” said Guitaut. 

I do not know whether it be the Hôtel Rambouillet,” re- 
plied the officer ; but this I know, that I have seen a great 
many persons of very sorry appearance go into it.” 

Pshaw ! ” said Guitaut, laughing heartily ; they are 
poets.” 

‘‘ If that is so, Guitaut,” said Mazarin, I will thank you 
not to speak so irreverently of these gentlemen. Do you not 
Know that I also was a poet in my youth, and made verses in 
the same style as those of M. de Benserade ? ” 

You, monsignor ? ” 

Yes, I. Would you like me to recite some of them 
^"'to you ? ” 

I thank you, monsignor, but I do not understand Italian.” 

“Yes ; but you understand French, do you not, my good 
and worthy Guitaut ? ” replied Mazarin, placing his hand in 
a friendly manner on his shoulder ; “ and whatever order is 
‘ given you in that language, you will execute it ? ” 

“ Without doubt, monsignor, as I have hitherto done — 
“ provided it comes to me from the Queen.” 


14 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ Ah, yes,” said Mazarin, biting his lips ; ‘‘ 1 know that 
you are wholly devoted to her.” 

I have been captain of her Guards for more than twenty 
years.” 

Forward, M. d’Artagnan ! ” cried the Cardinal. ‘‘ Every- 
thing is going on Veil in this quarter.” 

D’Artagnan took the head of the column without uttering a 
word, and with the passive obedience characteristic of an old 
soldier. 

He proceeded towards the mound of St. Roch, where was 
the third post, passing through the Rue Richelieu and the Rue 
Villedo. It was the most solitary station, for it almost touched 
upon the ramparts, and the city was not thickly peopled in 
that direction. 

Who commands this post ? ” asked the Cardinal. 

Villequier,” replied Guitaut. 

“ The deuce ! ” said Mazarin. Speak to him alone, then. 
You know that we are at swords’ point ever since you received 
the order to arrest the Due de Beaufort. He claimed that that 
honour belonged to him, as captain of the Guards.” 

“ I know it well, and I have told him a hundred times that 
he was wrong. The King could not have giyen him the order, 
for at that time his Majesty was only four years old.” 

True ; but I could have given it to him, Guitaut ; yet I 
preferred you.” 

Guitaut, without replying, pushed his horse forward, and 
making himself known to the sentinel, ordered him to 
summon M. de Villequier, who instantly made his appear- 
ance. 

“ Ah ! Is it you, Guitaut ? ” he said, in that ill-natured tone 
which was habitual with him. What the devil do you want 
here ? ” , 

I come to ask you if there is any news in this quarter.” 

“ And what news would you expect here ? They are shout- 
ing, ^Long live the King’ and ‘ Down with Mazarin !’ That 
is nothing new ; we have been accustomed to these cries for 
some time.” 

And you join in chorus ? ” replied Guitaut, laughing. 

Faith, I have sometimes a great inclination to do so. 
I think that they are quite right, Guitaut. I would willingly 
give live years of my pay, which, by the way, I haven’t re- 
ceived, to make the King five years older.” 


A NIGHT ROUND. 


15 


Indeed ! And what would happen if the King were five 
years older ? ’’ 

Why, the moment the King came to his majority, he would 
give his own orders ; and there would be much more pleasure 
in obeying the grandson of Henry IV. than the son of Pietro 
Mazarini. Por the King — death and the devil ! I would die 
with pleasure ; but if I were killed for Mazarin, as your 
nephew almost was to-day, the best place in Paradise would 
never console me for it.” 

Well, well, M. de Villequier,” said Mazarin, make yourself 
easy ; I will apprise the King of your devotion to him.” Then 
turning towards the escort : 

‘‘ Come, gentlemen,” continued he, all is going on well. 
Let us return.” 

“ And so Mazarin was there ! ” said Villequier. So much 
the better. I have long wished to tell him a bit of my mind. 
You have given me an opportunity, Guitaut ; and although 
your motives were not perhaps the very best, still I thank you 
for it.” 

And turning on his heels, he entered the guard-house, whis- 
tling a Fronde air. 

Mazarin, however, returned very pensive. What he had 
successively heard from Comminges, Guitaut, and Villequier 
confirmed his opinion that in case of any serious disturbance, 
he had no one to depend on but the Queen j and even the Queen 
had so often abandoned her friends that, in spite of all the 
precautions he had taken, her support sometimes appeared to 
the minister very uncertain and precarious. 

During the whole of this nocturnal expedition, — that is to 
say, for about an hour, while he in turn studied Guitaut, Com- 
minges, and Villequier, — the Cardinal had really been examin- 
ing one man. This man, who had remained perfectly unmoved 
before the threats of the populace, and whose face had not 
changed a muscle at the jokes which Mazarin himself had 
uttered, any more than at those of which he was the object, — 
this man appeared to him to be a distinct being, tempered 
and formed for such events as were then passing, and more 
especially for such as were about to happen. 

Besides, the name of D’Artagnan was not entirely unknown 
to him, and although Mazarin had not come to France until 
about the year 1634 or 1635, — that is to say, seven or eight 
years after the events \^hich we recounted in The Three Mus- 


16 


TWENTŸ YEARS AFTER. 


keteers/’ — it seemed to the Cardinal as if he had heard D’Ar- 
tagnan mentioned as a man who, in some half-forgotten affair, 
had made himself conspicuous as a model of courage, address, 
and devotion. 

This idea had taken such complete possession of his mind 
that he was determined to satisfy himself concerning it with- 
out delay 5 but the information which he desired must not be 
sought from D’Artagnan himself. The few words he had 
spoken had revealed to the Cardinal his Gascon origin ; and the 
Italians and Gascons knew each other too well, and are too 
much alike, to appl}’’ to one another for information concerning 
themselves. Therefore, on reaching the walls that enclosed the 
gârden of the Palais Poyal, the Cardinal rapped at a small 
door situated on nearly the same spot as where the Café de 
Foy now stands, and, after having thanked D’Artagnan and 
requested him to await him in the court of the Palais Royal, 
he made a sign to Guitaut to follow him. They both dismounted, 
and throwing their bridles to the lacquey who had opened the 
door, they disappeared in the garden. 

“ My dear Guitaut,” said the Cardinal, leaning on the Guard- 
captain’s arm, “you told me just now that you had been 
twenty years in the Queen’s service.” 

“ Yes, it is true,” replied Guitaut. 

Now, my dear Guitaut,” continued the Cardinal, “ I have 
remarked that, besides your courage, which is indisputable, 
and your fidelity, which is incorruptible, you have an excellent 
memory.” 

“You have remarked that, monsignor,” said the captain of 
the Guards. “ The deuce ! So much the worse for me.” 

“ And why so ? ” 

“ Doubtless, one of the best qualifications of a courtier is to 
know how to forget.” 

“ But you are not a courtier, Guitaut ; you are a brave 
soldier — a captain like one of those of the time of Henry IV., 
of whom few now remain, and of whom, unfortunately, very 
soon none will be left.” 

“ ’S death, monsignor ! Have you brought me here to draw 
my horoscope ? ” 

“No,” said Mazarin, laughing. “I have brought you here 
o ask you if you have observed our lieutenant of Musketeers ? ” 

“ M. d’ Artagnan ? ” 

“ Yes.” 


A NIGHT ROUND. 


n 


“ I have no occasion to observe him, monsignor ; I have known 
him for a long time.” 

Well, then, what sort of a man is he ? ” 

“ Why,” said Guitaut, surprised at the question, “ he is a 
Gascon.” 

Yes, I know that ; but I wanted to ask you whether he is 
a man to be trusted.” 

“ M. de Tréville much esteems him ; and M. de Tréville, you 
know, is a staunch friend of the Queen’s.” 

I wanted to know whether he is a man who has been 
proved ” — 

‘‘ If you mean as a brave soldier, I think I may say yes. At 
the siege of La Kochelle, at Suze, and at Perpignan I have 
heard that he did more than his duty.” 

But you know, Guitaut, that we poor ministers have often 
need of men who are something more than brave. We want 
men of tact. Was .not M. d’Artagnan mixed up in some 
intrigue, in the time of the Cardinal, from which report says 
he extricated himself most skilfully ?” 

As to that matter, monsignor,” replied Guitaut, who saw 
clearly that the Cardinal wished to draw him out, “ I am 
obliged to tell your Eminence that it is impossible for me to 
know what public rumour has taught you. For my own part, 
I never have taken part in any intrigues ; and if I ever received 
any information concerning the intrigues of others, as the secret 
is not mine your Eminence will excuse me if I keep it for 
those who confided it to me.” 

Mazarin shook his head. 

Ah ! ” said he, “ upon my word, there are some ministers 
fortunate enough to learn all they wish to know.” 

Monsignor, that is because those ministers do not weigh all 
men in the same scale ; and because they apply to men of the 
sword concerning war, and to men of intrigue for affairs of 
intrigue. Apply to some intriguer of the period you mention 
and you will easily gain the information you require — ■ that is 
to say, if you pay for it.” 

Ah, pardieu ! ” replied Mazarin, making a peculiar grimace 
which always escaped him when any one touched upon the 
question of money in the sense in which Guitaut had mentioned 
it ; “ yes, it will be paid for — if there are no other means of 
obtaining it.” 


18 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


And does monsignor seriously wish me to point out a man 
who has mingled in all the cabals of that period ? 

“ Per Bacco ! ” replied Mazarin, who began to lose his 
temper ; for a whole hour I have been asking you nothing 
else, iron-head that you are ! ’’ 

‘‘ There is one for whom I can answer in that respect ; that 
is to say, provided he will speak.” 

“ That is my affair.” 

Ah, monsignor, it is not always so easy to make people say 
what they do not wish to say.” 

Pshaw ! With patience it can be managed. Well, now, 
this man is ” — 

The Comte de Rochefort.” 

Ah ! the Comte de Rochefort ? ” 

Unfortunately, he disappeared four or five years ago, and 
I do not know what has become of him.” 

I know, Guitaut,” said Mazarin. 

“ Then why did your Eminence complain just now that you 
knew nothing ? ” 

And,” said Mazarin, you believe that Rochefort ” — 

He was the Cardinal’s tool, monsignor ; but I warn you 
that it will cost you dear. The Cardinal was very generous to 
his creatures.” 

Yes, yes, Guitaut,” replied Mazarin ; ^‘he was a great 
man, but he had that fault. Thank you, Guitaut. I will take 
advantage of your advice, and that this very evening.” 

And as they had now reached the courtyard of the Palais 
Royal, the Cardinal saluted Guitaut with a wave of his hand, 
and seeing an officer walking up and down, he joined him. It 
was D’Artagnan, wRo was waiting, as the Cardinal had com- 
manded him. 

Come, M. d’Artagnan,” said Mazarin, in his most melodi- 
ous voice ; ‘‘1 have an order to give you.” 

D’Artagnan bowed, followed the Cardinal up the secret 
staircase, and soon found himself in the same cabinet whence 
he had set out. 

The Cardinal sat down at his desk and took a sheet of 
paper, on which he wrote some lines. 

D’Artagnan, standing immovable, waited without impa- 
tience, as without curiosity. He had -become a military autom- 
aton, acting, or rather obeying, as if by a spring. 

The Cardinal folded the letter and sealed it. 


TWO OLD ENEMIES. 


19 


M. d’Artagnan/’ said he, yon will take this despatch to 
the Bastille, and bring back the person whom it concerns. 
You will take with you a carriage and an escort, and will 
carefully guard the prisoner.” 

D’Artagnan took the letter, put his hand to his hat, turned 
round on his heels just as the most skilful drill-sergeant would 
have done, and left the room ; and a moment after he was 
heard, in his curt, monotonous voice, giving this command: 
“ An escort of four men, a carriage, my horse ! ” 

Five minutes later, the sound of a carriage with the clatter 
of the iron hoofs of horses was heard on the pavement of the 
court. 


CHAPTEK III. 

TWO OLD ENEMIES. 

D’Artagnan reached the Bastille as half-past eight struck. 
He sent his name up to the governor, who, when he knew that 
he came with a direct order from the Cardinal, advanced even 
to the steps to meet him. 

M. de Tremblay was then governor of the Bastille. He 
was the brother of the famous Capucin Joseph, that terrible 
favourite of Eichelieu, who was styled his Gray Eminence. 

When the Marshal Bassompierre was in the Bastille, where 
he remained for upwards of twelve years, and when his com- 
panions, in their dreams -of liberty, would say one to another, 
“ As for me, I shall get out at such a time,” and “ I at such a 
time,” Bassompierre replied, And I, gentlemen, shall go out 
when M. de Tremblay goes out.” By which he meant that 
when Eichelieu died, M. de Tremblay would not fail to lose 
his place at the Bastille, and Bassompierre to resume his at 
Court. 

His prediction had nearly been fulfilled, but in a very differ- 
ent manner from what Bassompierre had expected ; for, after 
the Cardinal’s death, contrary to all expectation, affairs went 
on as before. M. de Tremblay did not go out, and Bassom- 
pierre was very near not going out too. 

M. de Tremblay was therefore still governor of the Bastille 
when D’Artagnan presented himself there to execute the 
Cardinal’s order. He received him with the greatest polite- 


20 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


ness, and, as he was just going to sit down at table, he in- 
vited D’Artagnan to sup with him. 

“I would do so with the greatest pleasure,” said D’Arta- 
gnan ; but, if I am not mistaken, it says on the envelope of 
the despatch, ‘ In great haste.’ ” 

“ That is true,” said M. de Tremblay* Hallo there ! 
major, bring down number 256.” 

On entering the Bastille you ceased to be a man, and you 
became a number. 

D’Artagnan felt cold shivers at the jingle of the keys. He 
therefore remained on horseback without caring to dismount, 
looking at the bars, the deep-sunk windows, and the enormous 
walls, which he had never before seen except from the other 
side of the moats, and which had caused him so much fear 
some twenty years before. 

A bell sounded. 

I must leave you,” said M. de Tremblay ; I am called to 
sign the order for the prisoner’s departure. May we soon 
meet again, M. d’Artagnan ! ” 

May the devil make away with me if I respond to your 
wish ! ” muttered D’Artagnan, accompanying his imprecation 
with his most gracious smile. I am quite ill with remaining 
only five minutes in the court. Come, come, I see that I 
would yet prefer dying on straw, of which there is some 
probability, to having an income of ten thousand livres as 
governor of the Bastille.” 

He had scarcely finished this soliloquy when the prisoner 
made his appearance. On seeing him, D’Artagnan made a 
motion of surprise, which he immediately suppressed. The 
prisoner entered the carriage without appearing to have recog- 
nised D’Artagnan. 

Gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan to his four Musketeers, I 
was ordered to keep the strictest watch over the prisoner. 
Therefore, as the carriage has no locks on its doors I shall get 
into it with him. M. de Lillebonde, will you be so obliging as 
to lead my horse by the bridle ? ” 

Willingly, lieutenant,” replied the Musketeer he addressed. 

D’Artagnan dismounted, gave his horse’s bridle to the 
Musketeer, entered the carriage, took his place near the 
prisoner, and, in a tone of voice in which it was impossible to 
discover the slightest emotion, said, ‘‘To the palace, full 
speed.” 


TWO OLD ENEMIES. 


21 


Instantly the carriage started, and D’Artagnan, taking 
advantage of the darkness of the arch under which they were 
passing, threw his arms round the prisoner’s neck, exclaiming, 
Rochefort ! Is it really you ? I am not mistaken ! ” 

“ D’ Artagnan ! ” cried Rochefort, in his turn much astonished. 
Ah ! my poor friend,” continued D’ Artagnan, notliaviiig 
seen you for four or five years, I thought you were dead.” 

Faith,” said Rochefort, there is not much difference, I 
imagine, between a dead man and one who is buried. And I am 
buried, or what amounts to the same thing.” 

And for what crime are you in the Bastille ? ” 

Do you wish me to tell you the truth ? ” 

Certainly.” 

“ Well, then, I do not know.” 

What, do you doubt me, Rochefort ? ” 

No, on the honour of a gentleman ; for it is impossible 
that I can be there for the cause alleged.” 

What cause ? ” 

As a night robber.” 

You a night robber, Rochefort ! You are jesting ? ” 

“ I imagine this requires some explanation — does it not ? ” 
Yes, I confess it does.” 

Well, then, this is what happened. One evening, after m 
orgy at Reinard’s, at the Tuileries, with the Due d’Harcourt, 
Fontrailles, De Rieux, and others, the Due d’Harcourt. pro- 
posed that we should go and pull off cloaks on the Pon.t Neuf; 
that is, you know, an amusement which the Due d’Orléans 
brought into fashion.” 

And were you crazy, Rochefort, — at your age ? ” 

No ; but I was drunk. And yet as the amusement ap- 
peared to me to be mighty tame I proposed to the Chevalier de 
Rieux that we should be spectators rather than actors, and, that 
we might view the spectacle from the first tier of boxes, that we 
should mount the Bronze Horse. No sooner said than done ! 
Thanks to the spurs, which served as stirrups, in a moment we 
were mounted on the crupper ; we were capitally place ! and 
saw charmingly. Four or five cloaks had been pulled off with 
unequalled dexterity, and without those from whom they had 
been taken having dared to say a word ; when some idiot not so 
patient as the others bethought himself of calling for the guard, 
and draws on us a patrol of archers. The Due d’Harcourt, 
Fontrailles, and the others escape. De Rieux wishes to do 


22 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


the same ; but I hold him back, saying that they would not spy 
us out where we were. He would not listen to me, but places 
his foot on the spur to descend. The spur gives way j he falls 
and breaks his leg, and, instead of remaining quiet, cries out 
like a hanged dog. I wished to jump down, in my turn ; but 
it was now too late, and I jumped into the arms of the archers, 
who carry me to the Châtelet, where I slept on this cursed 
wine, quite certain that I should be set at liberty the next day. 
But day after day elapsed, then a week, then I wrote to the 
Cardinal. The same day they came and took me to the Bastille, 
where I have now been these five years. Do you believe this 
is for having committed the sacrilege of mounting behind 
Henry IV.? 

‘^No; you are right, my dear Bochefort ; it cannot be for 
that. But probably you are now going to learn the cause.” 

Ah, yes ; for I had forgotten to inquire where you are 
taking me.” 

‘‘ To the Cardinal.” 

What does he want with me ? ” 

“ I have not the least idea ; for I did not even know that it I 
was you for whom I was sent.” I 

“ Impossible. You, a favourite.” 

I a favourite ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan. Ah ! my poor 
Count, I am more a Gascon volunteer than I was when I first i 
saw you at Meung — now full twenty-two years ago. Alas ! ” 
And à deep sigh finished this exclamation. 

And yet you came here with a command ? ” 

“ Merely because I happened by chance to be in the ante- ' 
chamber,' and the Cardinal applied to me, as he would have 
done to any other. But I am still only a lieutenant of Mus- 
keteers ; and I have now been so about one-and-twenty years, 
if I calculate properly.” 

“ But, after all, no misfortune has befallen you ; which is I 
saying much.” 

“ And what misfortune would you have happen to me ? As 
some Latin verse says, — which I have forgotten, or, rather, 
which I never knew correctly, — the thunder never strikes the 
valley, my dear Eochefort ; and I am one of the lowest in the 
world.” 

Therefore the Mazarin is still Mazarin ?” ' 

More than ever, my dear friend. They say that he is mar- 
ried to the Queen.” 


TWO OLD ENEMIES. 


23 


Married ? 

If he is not her husband, he is most assuredly her fa- 
voured lover.” 

What ! Kesist a Buckingham and yield to a Mazarin ! ” 
Like a woman,” replied D’Artagnan philosophically. 

“ Yes, a woman — but a queen ? ” 

Great heavens ! In that respect, queens are women twice 
over.” 

And is M. de Beaufort still in prison ? ” 

“ Yes ; and why do you inquire ? ” said D’Artagnan. 
Because as he was well disposed toward me he might have 
got me out of this scrape.” 

“ You are probably nearer freedom than he is ; so you must 
get him out.” 

Then, the war ? ” said Rochefort. 

“ AVe are going to have it.” 

AYith the Spaniard ? ” 

No, with Paris,” replied D’Artagnan. 

What do you mean ? ” 

Do you hear those shots ? ” 

Yes ; and what of it ? ” 

Well, the citizens are throwing the balls about i eforc- tlio 
game begins.” 

And do you think that anything could be done ^ ith thes>4 
citizens ? ” inquired Rochefort. ’ 

Why, yes ; there ’s promise, and if they had a chief’ who 
would unite all these scattered groups ” — 

It is unfortunate not to be free.” ? 

‘^Ah, now, do not despond. If Mazarin has sent for yon, in: 
must want you for something; and if he really wants you --- 
well, then I congratulate you. No one has wanted mo i’or 
many a year ; and you see my present position.” 

Make your complaint, then ; that ’s my advice.” 

“ Listen, then, Rochefort : a bargain ” — 

What is it ? ” 

“ You know that we are good friends ? ” 

Yes, by Jove ! I carry the marks of our frieudship — 
three sword wounds !” 

Well, then, should you get into favour, don’t forget 
me.” ’ 

On the faith of Rochefort ! But on condition that you do 
the same for me in return.” 


24 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


‘‘ Agreed, and here ’s my hand. Therefore, the first oppor- 
tunity you have of speaking for me ” — 

I will speak. And you ? ’’ 

I will do the same.” | 

‘‘ And, by the way, your friends — must I speak for them 
also ? ” 

“ What friends ? ” j 

Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. Why, have you forgotten | 
them ?” ; 

Almost.” 

What has become of them ? ” 

“ I have not the ^lightest idea.” 

‘‘ Indeed ! ” 

‘‘ Ah, yes ! You know that we separated. They live ; and 
that is all I can say. From time to time I hear of them 
indirectly ; but In what part of the world they are, the plague 
take me it 1 know ; and, on my honor, Eochefort, you are now 
mv only friend.” 

i the illustrious — what did you call the lad whom 1 1 
made a sergeant in the regiment of Piedmont ? ” | 

« }:>]anchet ? ” j 

Yes, that is it — and what has become of the illustrious j 
Plancl.et ? ” I 

. “ Well, he married a pastry-cook’s shop in the Rue des Loin- i 
bards. He is a lad who always loved sweets ; so that he is 
now ai ijitizen of Paris, and, in all probability, he is now one of 
the rioters. You will see that the rascal will be a sheriff 
before I am a captain.” 

•• Oiriie, my dear D’Artagnan, a little It is when 

uno is at the very bottom of the wheel that'o'^ Cuins and raises 
yu'u up. From this very evening, perhaps, your lot will 
change.” 

Allien ! ” said D’Artagnan, stopping the carriage. 

^AVhat are you doing ? ” demanded Eochefort. 

We are nearing our destination, and I do not wish to be 
seen getting out of the carriage — we do not know each other.” 

You are right. Adieu.” 

“ An revoir. Eemember your promise.” 

Ami , remounting his horse, D’Artagnan resumed h i place at 
the head of the escort. Five minutes later they en ered the 
court of the Palais Eoyal. 

D’Artagnan conducted his pr isoner by tl-e grand staircase^: 


TWO OLD ENEMIES. 


25 


through the antechamber and corridor. Having reached the 
door of Mazarines cabinet, he was about to announce himself, 
when Rochefort put his hand upon his shoulder: 

D’Artagnan,” said he, smiling, shall I confess something 
of which I was thinking all along our route as I saw the crowds 
tnrough whom we passed, and who were looking at you and 
your four men with flaming eyes ? ” 

“ Speak,’’ said D’Artagnan. 

It was that I had only to cry for help, to have you and 
your four men torn to pieces, and then I should have been 
free.” 

“ And why did you not do it ? ” said D’Artagnan. 

Come, now,” said Rochefort, sworn friendship. Ah ! if 
it had been any other than you I, do not say ” — 

D’Artagnan held down his head. “ Has Rochefort become 
better than I am ? ” he asked himself. 

And he sent their names in to the minister. 

Show in M. de Rochefort,” said the impatient voice of 
Mazarin, as soon as he had heard the two names mentioned ; 

and request M. (ÿArtagnan to wait. I have not yet done 
with him.” 

These words much delighted d’Artagnan. As he had said, 
it was a long time since any one had wanted him, and this 
urgency on the part of Vi izarin was a good omen. 

It had no other effect )’i Rocliefort than that of putting hire 
completely on his guaru. He eiit,ei‘ed the cabinet and found 
Mazarin seated at a table, in his ordinary dress ; that is to say, 
as monsignor. It was niuch tin same as the dress of the abbr:-' 
of the time, ^ /tha' he wm-e a violet mantle and stocking .. 

The doors' wet'^. closed. Ro: iiefort looked at Mazarin out of 
the corner of his eye e-ud c.'di;,,ht a glance from the minister 
which crossed his own. 

The minister was unchanged — well combed, well curled, ai d 
well perfumed'; and by rereon of his foppery did not app* ar 
near his reaFage. With Rochefort it was quite another thing ; 
the flve years he had passed in prison had greatly changed the 
appearance d this worthy friend of Richelieu. His black 
hair had .become perfectly white ; and the bronzed and hardy 
color ofdii.s complexion had given place to a pallor which 
looked itke. tluit of exhaustion. On seeing 1dm Mazarin shook 
his head imperceptibly, as much as to say. There is a man who 
no longer u ppears to be good for much. 


f 


26 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


After a pause, which was, in reality, sufficiently long, but 
which appeared an age to Eochefort, Mazarin took an open 
letter from a bundle of papers, and showing it to him, said : 

I have found a letter from you, M. de Eochefort, demand- 
ing your liberty. So you are in prison, are you ? 

Eochefort started at this question. 

“ Why,” said he, it seemed to me that your Eminence knew 
that better than any one else.” 

I ? Not at all. There are crowds of prisoners in the 
Bastille who have been there since the time of M. de Eichelieu, 
and whose names I do not even know.” 

Oh, monsignor ; but it is quite another thing as far as it 
concerns me. And you knew of mine, since it was by an 
order of your Eminence that I was transferred from the Châte- 
let to the Bastille.” 

‘‘ Do you think so ? ” 

‘‘ I am certain of it.” 

Yes ; I think I remember it now. Did you not refuse to go 
to Brussels for the Queen ?” 

“ Ah, ha ! ” exclaimed Eochefort ; so tl^re is the true cause, 
after all. Fool that I am ! I have been seeking for it these 
five years and could not discover it.” 

But I do not say that that was the cause of your arrest. Let 
us understand each other properly. I ask you the question — 
that is all. Did you not refuse to go to Brussels on the Queen’s 
service, although you had before gone there for the late Car- 
dinal ? ” 

“ It was precisely because I had gone for tue Cardinal that I ' 
could not go there for the Queen. I h !,d oeen to Brussels 
under very terrible circumstances. It was at the time of 
Chalais’s conspiracy. I had been there to discover his corre- 
spondence with the Archduke ; and even then, e hen I was rec- 
ognised, I narrowly escaped being tern te pieces. How, then, 
could you expect me to return there ? I should have ruined 
the Queen instead of. serving her.” 

Well, you may now understand, my dear A! de Eochefort, 
how the best intentions may be misinterpreted "Jffie Queen 
saw, in your denial, only a pure and -itûor.ie refusal; and 
besides, her Majesty the Queen had had to.- cruise for com- 
plaint against you, under the late Cardie?^ ' th.‘ 

Eochefort smiled contemptuously. • • 

‘^It was precisely because I had faithfii , r nal. i.rdinal 


TWO OLD ENEMIES. 


27 


Richelieu against the Queen that, when he was dead, you 
ought to have coinpreheiided, inonsigiior, that I would have 
served you faithfully against all the world.” 

“ j\[e ? ]\L de Rochefort ! ” said JVfazarin ; me ! I am not 

like M. de Richelieu, who aimed at omnipotence. I am a i)lain 
minister, who do not stand in need of followers or servants, 
being myself the servant of the Queen. Now, her Majesty is 
very susceptible; she must have heard of your refusal, and 
knowing that you were a superior and, consecpiently, a dan- 
gerous man, my dear M. de Rochefort, she must have ordered 
me to make sure of you. Tliat is the way in which you got 
into the Bastille.” 

Well, then, monsignor,” said Rochefort, it appears to 
me that if I am in the Bastille through mistake ” — 

Yes, yes,” replied Mazarin, certainly ; all that can be 
managed. You are the man to comprehend certain affairs, and, 
when these affairs are once understood, to push them forward.” 

“That was Cardinal Richelieu’s opinion, and my admiration 
for that great man is increased when I hear you saying that it 
is yours also.” |r 


“ It is true,” replied Mazarin, “ the Cardinal was a great 
politician ; in that consisted his vast superiority over myself, 
who am a plain, straightforward being. That is what injures 
me. I have a frankness that is quite French.” 

Rochefort bit his lips to keep from smiling. 

“ I come, therefore, to my object. I need some good tVipiids. 
some faithful servants. When I say that I need, I mean — 
the Queen wants them. I do nothing except by the Q.uccrcs 
command — do you understand? It is not like Card and. ùv 
Richelieu, who did everything according to his own cu juice; 
therefore, I shall never be a great man like him; but, i; stead 
of it, I am a good man, M. de Rochefort; and I hope ilutt 1 
shall convince you of it.” 

Rochefort knew that silky voice, with which, from tiii.- to 
time, a hissing like a viper’s was mingled. 

“ I am quite ready to believe you, monsignor,” said )c' ; 
“ though, for my pan, I have had but few proofs of thaf » )d- 
ness of which -'y'ur Eminence has spoken. Do not foi. -er. 
ifionsignor,” cc s*’ ed Rochefort, seeing the movement wd.i^di 
tlà minister enmc ^mured to check, — “ do not forget that I hs ' f 
beSiu b.ve eavi the Bastille, and tlnit nothing distorts td-- 
for anythii i>s looking at things through prison bars.” 


28 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Ah, M. de Kochefort, I have already told yon that I had 
nothing to do with your imprisonment. The Queen — the 
anger of a woman and a princess — what would you have ? 
But it passes as it comes, and afterwards one thinks no more 
about it. — 

“ I can conceive, monsignor, that she thinks no more about 
it — she, who has passed these five years at the Palais Boyal 
in the midst of entertainments and courtiers 5 but I, who have 
passed them in the Bastille — 

Oh, my God ! my dear M. de Bochefort, do you imagine 
that the Palais Eoyal is such a very gay abode ? No, indeed ; 
we have had great disturbance here, I assure you. But let us 
not talk any more about that. I play with all my cards on the 
table, as I always do. Are you one of us, M. de Bochefort ? ’’ 
“ You ought to comprehend, monsignor, that I ask for noth- 
ing better. But 1 know nothing of what is going on. In the 
Bastille we talk politics only with soldiers and jailers, and. 
you have no idea, monsignor, how little such men know of 
what is passing. I agree with M. de Bassompierre — is he 
still one of the seventeen noblemen ? ’’ 

He is dead, sir, and it is a great loss. He was devoted to 
the Queen, and such men are rare.’^ 

Parbleu ! and I can well believe it,’^ said Bochefort. 

And when you have thejn, you send them to the Bastille.’’ 

But, after all, what prpves devotion ? ” inquired Mazarin. 

Action,” said Bochefort. 

^^•Ah, yes, action,” replied the minister, reflecting. But 
where are men of action to be found ? ” 

Rochefort shook his head. 

There is never any lack of them, monsignor ; but you do 
not search properly for them.” 

I do not search properly ? What do you mean, my dear 
M. de Bochefort ? Tell me — you must have learnt much 
during your intimacy with monsignor, the late Cardinal. Ah ! 
he was a great man.” 

Will mon signor be angry if I preach to him ? ” 

‘‘I ? Not at all. You know very well that men may sa" 
anything to me. I endeavour to make myself loved, no 
feared.” 

Well, then, there is a proverb, written on h* 9 wall of m 
dungeon with a ^ nail.’ ” 

And what is this proverb ? ” asked the Cardinal. iiflin 


TWO OLD ENEMIES. 


29 


“ This is it, monsigiior t Like master ” — 

I know it : like valet ” — 

‘‘No ; like follower. It is a slight change, which the devoted 
men, of whom I was just now speaking, made for their own 
private satisfaction/’ 

“ Well ; and what does this proverb signify ? ” 

“It signifies that Richelieu succeeded in finding faithful 
servants, and by dozens.” 

“ He ! — the aim and object of every dagger ! He ! — who 
passed his whole life in warding off the blows that were 
struck at him ! ” 

“ But, after all, he did ward them off, and yet they were 
roughly given. It was because, if he had real enemies, he had 
also real friends.” 

“ And that is all I require.” 

“ I have known men,” continued Rochefort, who thought 
that now was the time to keep his promise to D’Artagnan, — 
“ I have known men who by their skill have a hundred times 
evaded all the Cardinal’s penetration, and by their courage 
conquered his guards and spies, — men who, without money, or 
support, or credit, kept the crown on a crowned head, and made 
the Cardinal sue for pardon.” 

“ But these men,” said the Cardinal, delighted at seeing 
Rochefort coming to the very point to which he wished to lead 
him, — “ these men of whom you speak were not devoted to 
the Cardinal, since they opposed him ! ” 

“ No, or they would have been better rewarded ; but they 
had the misfortune to be devoted to that same Queen for whom 
you were just now requiring followers.” 

“ But how can you know all these things ? ” 

“I know them because at that time these men were my 
enemies — because they were contending against me — because 
I did them all the harm I could, and they paid me back as far 
as they could — because one of them, with whom I was more 
especially engaged, gave me a sword wound about seven years 
ago ; it was the third that I had received from the same hand 
— the settlement of an old account.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Mazarin, with wonderful good-nature ; “ if I 
only knew such men as those ! ” 

“ Well, monsignor, you have had one at your door more 
than six years, and all that tinae have not considered him good 
for anything.” 


30 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Who, pray ? 

M. d’Artagnan.’’ 

‘‘ That Gascon ! ” exclaimed Mazarin, with well-feigned aston- 
ishment. 

“ That Gascon saved a Queen, and made Richelieu confess 
that in point of skill and political address he was but a novice 
to him.’’ 

Indeed ! ” 

‘‘It is precisely as I have the honour to inform your Excel- 
lency.” 

“ Tell me something about it, my dear ]\I. de Rochefort.” 

“ That is a mighty difficult thing, monsignor,” said the 
gentleman, smiling. 

“ He will tell it me himself, then.” 

“ I doubt it, monsignor.” 

“ And why so ? ” 

“ Because the secret is not his own — because, as I have 
told you, it is the secret of a great Queen.” 

“ And was he alone in accomplishing such an enterprise ? ” 

“No, monsignor; he had three friends, three gallant men, 
who seconded him — such men as you were seeking for just 
now.” 

“ And those four men were united, do you say ? ” 

“ As if the four had made but one man — as if those four 
hearts had beat in one bosom. Therefore, what did they not 
do — those four ! ” 

“ My dear M. de Rochefort, you really excite my curiosity 
to the last degree. Covdd you not tell me this history ? ” 

“No; but I can narrate a story to you — a real fairy tale, 
monsignor, I assure you.” 

“ Oh, do tell it me, M. de Rochefort ! I am very fond of 
tales.” 

“ You wish for it, then, monsignor ? ” said Rochefort, endeav- 
ouring to detect some motive in the expression of that keen 
and crafty face. 

“ Yes.” 

“ W ell, then, listen. There was once a queen — a very 
powerful queen — the queen of one of the mightiest kingdoms 
in the world — against whom a great minister had conceived 
a violent hatred, because he had before been too favourably 
inclined toward her. Do not endeavour, monsignor, to find out 
who — you could never guess. All this happened a long time 

V 


TWO OLD ENEMIES. 


31 


before you came into the country where this queen reign- ■(;. 
Now, there came to this court an embassador, so brave, so rich, 
and so elegant that all the women became mad ; and the 
(iueen herself, no donbt as a memorial of the manner in wh b 
he had managed the affairs df State, had the imprudence !-> 
give him an ornament so remarkable that it could net -v' 
replaced. As this ornament was a present froni the king, iic 
minister persuaded him to insist upon the qneen wearing it a. 
an approaching ball'. It is unnecessary to tell yon, monsignor, 
that the minister knew for certain that this ornament luni 
accompanied the ambassador, which ambassador was far dis 
tant on the other side of the sea. The great queen was lost 
— ruined — -like the lowest of her subjects; for she would 
have inevitably fallen from the very pinnacle of her grander v. ’’ 
Eeally ! ” said Mazarin. 

“Well then, monsignor, four men determined to save Lcr. 
These four men were not princes, they were not dukes, they w'ue 
not men of power, the}^ were not even men of wealth : tl 'v 
were four soldiers, of most intre|)id courage, strong arms, r.iid 
great skill at the sword. They departed. The juinister kr.ew 
of their departure, and had posted men on their road to 
prevent the accomplishment of their object. Three of the 
four were disabled by numerous assailants ; and one alone 
reached the harbour, having killed or wounded those v he 
attempted to stop him, passed the sea, and brought back he 
ornament to the great queen, who was able to attach it to ) ;er 
shoulder on the day appointed ; and thus nearly overthrew ' he 
minister. What do you think of that stroke, monsignor ? ’’ 

“ It was splendid ! ” said Mazarin, meditating. 

“ And I know ten quite equal to it.” 

Mazarin did not speak ; he was thinking. 

“ Have you anything more to ask me, monsignor ? ” said 
Eochefort. 

“ Yes. And you say that M. d’Artagnan was one of those 
four men ? ” 

Yes ; he was at the head of the whole enterprise.” 

“ And who were the others ? ” 

“Monsignor, permit me to leave to M. d’Artagnan himscii 
the task of giving their names. They were his friends, not 
mine. He alone can have any inlinence over them ; and I do 
not even know them by their real names.” > 

“ You distrust me, M. de Eochefort. Well, I will be frank 


32 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


with you to the end. I have need of you — of him ; in short, 
of ali” 

Begin with me, monsignor, since you sent for me and I 
am here ; then you can pass on to the others. You cannot be 
surprised at my curiosity ; when a man has been for five years 
in prison, he is naturally anxious to know where he is going 
0 be sent.’’ 

You, my dear M. de Eochefort, will have a confidential 
appointment. You will go to Vincennes, where M. de Beau- 
ort is a prisoner, and you will keep your eye on him. Well, 
low, what is the trouble ? ” 

‘^Why, the trouble is that you propose an impossibility,” 
said Eochefort, shaking his head with an air of disappoint- 
ment. 

“ How ! An impossibility ? And why so ? ” 

Because M. de Beaufort is one of my friends ; or, rather, 
[ am one of his. Have you forgotten, monsignor, that M. de 
Beaufort was responsible for me to the Queen ? ” 

‘‘M. de Beaufort has since become the enemy of the State.” 

That may possibly be the case, monsignor ; but, as I am 
neither King, nor Queen, nor minister, he is not my enemy, 
and I cannot accept what you offer me.” 

This is what you term your devotion, is it ? I congratu- 
late you. Your devotion does not carry you too far, M. de 
Rochefort.” 

. And besides, monsignor, you will understand that to leave 
iihe Bastille to go to Vincennes is only changing one’s prison.” 

Say at once that you are of M. de Beaufort’s party, and 
you will then be more candid.” 

Monsignor, I have been so long imprisoned that I belong 
only to one party, and that is the party of the free and open 
air of heaven. Employ me in any other way — send me on a 
mission — give me active occupation ; but, if possible, let it 
be outdoors.” 

“ My dear M. de Eochefort,” said Mazarin, with his banter- 
ing air, your zeal carries you too far. Because your heart 
is good, you imagine yourself still a young man ; but your 
strength would fail you. Believe me, what you now want is 
repose. Hallo, there, some one ! ” 

^^You therefore make no determination concerning me, 
monsignor ? ” 

‘‘ On the contrary, I have determined.” 


TWO OLD ENEMIES, 


33 


Bernouin entered. 

“ Call an officer/’ said Mazarin ; and remain in the room/’ 
he added, in a low voice. 

An officer entered. Mazarin wrote a few words, which he 
gave to the man, and then bowed. “ Adieu, M. de K-ochefort,” 
said he. 

Rochefort bowed respectfully. I perceive, monsignor,” 
said he, that I am going back to the Bastille.” 

You have a quick intelligence.” 

I return there, monsignor ; but, I repeat, you are wrong in 
not employing me.” 

You ! the friend of my enemies.” ) 

‘‘ What would you have ? You should have made me the 
enemy of your enemies.” 

And do you think that there is no one but yourself, M. de 
Rochefort ? Believe me, I can find plenty of much greater 
value.” 

I wish you may, monsignor.” 

Very well. Go, go ! But, by the by, it is . 
to write me any more letters, M. de Rochefort, 
be entirely wasted.” 

I have drawn the chestnuts from the fi: 

Rochefort, as he left the room ; and if D’Artagr 
isfied with the eulogium I have just passed up , 
mighty difficult. But where the plague are they 

Id fact, they led him back by the little staircf 
passing through the antechamber, where D’Artag 
ing. In the court he found his carriage and th 
of his escort ; but he looked in vain for his frieu 

Ah, ha ! ” said Rochefort to himself, this m 
change in affairs ; and if there should be still the 
of people in the streets — well, we will endeavo 
Mazarin that we are still, thank God, worth son 
than to guard a prisoner.” 

And he jumped into the carriage as lightly as : 
only twenty-five years old. 


34 


TWl^NTY YEARS AFTER. 


CHAPTER IV. 

ANNE OF AUSTRIA AT FORTY-SIX. 

M AZARIN, wlieii alone with Bernouin, remained pensive for 
a moment or two. He knew a good deal, and yet he did not 
know (piite enough. He was a regular cheat at play 5 that is 
a fact which Brienne has preserved for us. He called it 
taking a fair advantage. He therefore resolved not to form 
any engagement with D’Artagnan until he knew all his adver- 
|sary’s cards. 

Has monsignor any commands ? ’’ inquired Bernouin. 

Yes,” replied Mazarin ; give me a light ; 1 am going to 
the Queen.” 

Bernouin took a candle and led the way. 

There was a secret passage that led from Mazarin’s apart- 
ments and his cabinet to those of the Queen, and it was by this 
passage that Mazarin went, at all hours, to Anne of Austria.^ 

i bed-chamber, into which this passage opened, 

• ' Madame Beauvais. Madame Beauvais and Ber- 
\. be two confidants of these superannuated amours; 
A Beauvais undertook to announce the Cardinal to 
v tria, who was in her oratory with the young 
• IV. 

i astria, seated in a large easy -chair, with her 
on a table and her head supported by her hand, 
!, ; t the royal child, who, stretched upon the car- 

■ ;ag over a large book of battles. Anne of Aus- 

■ ;n who was tired of State ceremony; and she 

for hours shut up in her chamber or her ora- 
either reading or praying, 
ith which the King was amusing himself was a 
IS, enriched with engravings representing the 
‘ ' ' * 'f Alexander. 

' • auvais appeared at the door of the oratory and 

bi Cardinal de Mazarin. 

i used himself on one knee, frowning; and look- 
ler, he said, Why does he come in this man- 
4 inanding an audience ? ” 


' by which the Oardiiuil went to the Queeti-mother may still be 
al. — Memoirs of the PrincenH Palatine. 


OF AW^riilA AT F(}RTY-Sl\ 


oh 


Queei^. blushed- slightly. 

‘‘ It is necessary/’ sbe replied, “^iii the times in ^vhieh av(' 
live, that the Vrime Minister should have the . rivUege of 
coming at any iionr to give the C^>m‘eu an account of what is 
uassiiu-î, without exciting the curiosity of the wdiole (locirt.’’ 

“ But T do not think that M. do Richelieu came in this 
manner,” answered tlie iîicorrigible cliild. 

And w'hat do yOu i-em ember about M. de Hi. del i eu ? You 
can know nothing about him ; you were 'coo ycuing.” 

I do not reiuember it myself, but, I have inquired, and 
have been told so.” 

“■ And who has told you this ? ” replied Anne ot Austrio,, 
with an ill-disguised movement of aui^m-. 

“ I knov/ that I must never name the pej'sons wlio answer 
my questions,” replied tlie child, ‘*or 1 sliall obtain no more 
information.” 

At tliat nunneiit Mazarin made his appearance. Yhc Kmg 
rose, took his book, shut it, and laid it on the table ; lu* re- 
inained standing by it, that he might oblige Mazarin also to stand. 

This scene did not escape IMazarin’s intelligent eye, and he 
endeavoured to conjecture what had preceded it. He hoived 
respectfully to the Queen, and made a profound revf'reuce to 
tlie King, who nodded haughtily enough. But a glance from 
his mother reproached him for thus indulging tlie liatred which 
J.ouis XIY. had, from his earliest youth, cherished toward the 
Cardinal ; and he received the minister’s CAmiplimeuts with a 

smile on his lips. • • x- 4 .v. 

Anne of Austria tried to .livine, from the ex])ress_ion ot tile 

Car.linars features, the cause of this unexpected visit, for he 
seldom came until all had withdrawn. ^ ^ 

The miiiister made an almost imperceptible sign vyith Ins 
head. Then the Queen, addressing Aladame Ibiauvais. said, 

Jt is time for the King to go to bed. Call Laporte.” 

The Queen had two or three times bel ore told young lunus 
to to bed, and the child had always, in a caressing uianner, 
ins'istcd on. remaining up a little longer; but this dime le 
made no observaUou : he only bit his lips and grew pale. A 
nmitient aftcj- Laporte entered; and the eluld wcni Uraiglit iqi 

to him, without kissing his mother. 

V:U)\ Louis ! ” said Anne, ‘yrvhy do you. not kiss iu< . 

“ I thought you rvere angry with me, madame, as you dn.\e 

me away.’’ 


86 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


I do not drive you away. But yon know you have just 
^ had the small-pox, and, as you are iigt yet quite recovered, I 
feared that sitting up late would fatigue you.^’ 

You had not the same fear yesterday, when you made me 
go to the palace to pass those abominable edicts, which have 
caused the people to murmur so much.’^ 

‘‘ Sire,” said Laporte, in order to create a diversion, “ to 
whom does your Majesty wish that I should give the candle ? 

“ To whomever you please, Laporte,’^ replied the bov. pro- 
vided,’* he added, in a loud voice, that it be not to Mancini.'' 

Mancini was a nephew of the Cardinal’s, wjioiii Mazarin had 
placed near the King as a page, and against whom Louis 
directed some of that hatred which he had for his minister. 

And the King left the room, without either kissing his 
mother or saluting the . Cardinal. 

Well done ! ” said Mazarin ; I am delighted to perceive 
that his Majesty is brought up with a horror of dissimulation.” 

And how so ? ” said the Queen, in a timid voice. 

, Well, it. seems to me that the King’s mode of leaving the 
room requires no comment. Besides, his Majesty does not 
give himseU’ the trouble to conceal his lack of affection for 
me; but this will not lessen my devotion to his service, as well 
as to that of your Majesty.” 

I beg pardon for him, Cardinal,” said the Queen ; the 
bo}^^ is not yet able to appreciate his obligations to you.” 
The Cardinal smiled. 

But,” continued the. Queen, “you are doubtless come for 
some important object. What is it ? ” 

Mazarin seated or rather threw himself in a chair, and s:dd 
in a melancholy tone : > 

“ We shall, in all probability, be soon compelled to separate 
unless you carry youj.- devcdion to i^e so far as to follow me to 
Italy.” 

“ And why so ? ” demanded the Queen. 

“Because, as the opera of ■ ïhisbe’ say»,” replied Mazarin 
Ihe whole world conspires to ficparate onr f’v.iirts ’ ” ^ 

“You are Jesting, sir,” said tbe Queen, eudeavouriria to 
assume somewhat of her former dignity. 

“Alas,_no, madame!” replied Mazi.riu; “ I am not itstin^'. 
i am, believe me, much more inclined to weep r and there Ts 
good reason for it ; for marx well what T say — 

The whole world co tispires to s epouvate our hiolyts ’ 


ANNE OF AUSTRIA AT FORTY-SIX. 


37 


Now, as you constitute a portion of this whole world, I 
would say that you also abandon me.” 

Cardinal ! ” 

Ah, iny God ! did I not see you the other day smiling most 
sweetly at the Due d’Orléans, or, rather, at what he said ? ” 

“ And what did he say ? ” 

He said, madame, — it is your Mazarin who is the stum- 
bling-block ; let him depart and all will be well ! ” J 

And what would you have had me do ? ” / 

Oh, madame, you are the Queen, I believe ! ” 

Charming royalty ! that is at the mercy of the first scrib- 
bler on dirty paper in the Palais Eoyal, or the first poor gen- 
tleman of the realm ! ” 

‘‘ And yet you are powerful enough to remove those who 
displease you.” 

“ That is to say, who displease you,” replied the Queen, 
a Me ?” • 

^^Yes, certainly. Who sent away Madau; '! evreuse, 

who had also been persecuted for ten year un»^.' ^ ‘Au: htU 
reign ?” 

An intriguing woman, who wished !(• .airy on against me 
the cabals begun against M. de EicKAieu, 

Who banished Madanm Hautefort, that friend so faith- 
ful that shr- ndiised tl- I' I’vAs favour, in order that she might 
remain in mine? 

e nrude — who every evening told you, whilst she was . 
nmiressing you, .that you perilled your soul by loving a priest 
as if a man must necessarily be a priest because he is a car 
diimh ' 

** vVho caused M. de Beaufort to be arrested ?” 

a turbulent fellow, who actually talked of assassinating 
me.” 

“ You plainly see. Cardinal, that your enemies are mine 
also.” 

“ That is not sufficient, madame ; it is also necessary that 
your friends should be mine.” 

My friends, sir ! ” (The Queen shook her head.) Alas ! 

, . . . . r,i - oerity, when you had 

) ■ those friends — be- 

•1'. Medicis, who, on 


88 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


her return from her first exile, despised all those who had suf- 
fered for her, and who, when banished a second time, died at 
Cologne, abandoned by all the world, nay, even by her own 
son, because all the world in turn despised her.*’ 

“ Well, then, let ns see,” said IVIazarin, if there be not yet 

time to repair this evil. Think over some of your friends 

of yonr most ancient friends.” 

What do yon mean, sir ? ” 

Nothing but what I say. Think them over.” 

Alas ! in vain should I look around me. I have no longer 
influence over any one. Monsieur is, as usual, managed by 
his favourite. Yesterday it was Choisy ; to-day it is La 
Eivière ; to-morrow it will be some one else. The Prince is 
led by the coadjutor, who is led by Madame de Guéménée.” 

And therefore, madame, I do not wish yon to look amongst • 
your friends of the present time, but amongst those of bygone 
days.” 

“ Amongst my .Trends of bygone days ? ” said the Queen, 
i es, amongst, /our friends of bygone days — amongst those 
who assisted you .n struggling against the Due de Eichelieu, 
and in conquering him too.” 

^^Mhat is he ainiiug- at? ’ murmured the Queen, looking 
anxiously at the Cardinal. 

Yes,” he. continued, ^Gii cod., in <'ii. mmstances, ^dth that . 
powerful and acute mind that characteri.st.;. Ma,iesty, von 
were able, thanks to the aid of yonr friend.s, t.. m guise Uiat ^ 
adversary’s attacks.” ‘ 

s I ! ” said the Queen. I suffered — that is all ! ”^ 

Yes,” replied Mazarin, as women suffer — by revemdin^ 
themselves ! However, let us come to facts. Do you know ^ 
M. de Eochefort ? ” 

“ M. de Eochefort was not one of my friends,” said the Queen • 
“^on the contrary, he was one of my bitterest enemies, and one 
ot the most devoted of the Cardinal’s followers. I thouMit 
you knew that.” 

' know it so Avell,’^ said : ; , - . ; "• * ^ 

'the Bastille.” ' 

And has he left it ? ” de : . ; 

^^No; you may be assure i ; ' . ■ f 

mention him to come to ' 

gnan ? ” continued Maze . . 

Anne of Austria recf • , 


ANNE OF A [/STRIA AT FORTY-SIX. 


39 


Can the Gascon have been indiscreet ? ” she murmured. 

Then she said aloud: “ D’Arta^nan ? Wait, now — yes, 
certainly, that name is familiar to me. D’Artagnan ! — a 
Musketeer, who was in love Avith one of my Avomen — a poor 
little creature, Avho Avas poisoned in my service.” 

Is that all ? ” said Mazarin. 

The Queen looked at the Cardinal Avith astonishment. 

It appears to me, sir, as if you Avere subjecting me to a 
reg 1 1 1 ar i n terrogatory . ” 

To which, of course,” said Mazarin, Avith his eternal smile 
and his ever-smooth voice, ‘‘ you Avill only ansAver according to 
3U)ur capricious fancy.” 

Explain your Avishes openly and clearly, sir, and I Avill 
ansAver them in the same manner,” said the Queen, Avith some 
impatience. 

Well, then, madame,” continued Mazarin, boAving, I 
desire that you Avill share your friends Avith me, and I share 
Avith you Avhatever little industry and talents HeaAmn has 
gifted me Avith. Circumstances are serious, and all our energy 
Avill be required.” 

Again ! ” said the Queen. I hoped that Ave had finished 
Avith M. de Beaufort.” 

“ Yes, you looked only at the torrent that threatened to 
carry everything before it, and paid no attention to the still 
Avaters; and yet there is a proverb in France about still Avaters 
running deep.” 

]h*oceed,” said the Queen. 

Well, then,” continued Mazarin, I am daily affronted by 
your princes and titled servants — all mere automatons, Avho 
see not that I hold the thread of tlieir fate, and Avho do not 
descry under 1113^ calm and patient gravity the smile of an 
irritated man, Avho has SAvorn to himself one day to have them 
i:i his poAver. We then had IM. de Beaufort arrested, it is true ; 
but he Avas the least dangerous of all. There is still M. le 
Criiice.” 

What ! the conqueror of Ilocroi ? Do you think of him ? ” 
/ Yes, madame, and veiy often. But 'patienza, as Ave 
Italians say. Then after M. de Coudé, there is the Due 
j/l’Orleaus.” 

{ AYhat are you saying ? The first Prince of the blood — 
/rhe Jving’s uncle!” 

t FTot the first Prince of the blood — not the King’s uncle; 


40 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


but the dastardly conspirator who, under the late reign — 
pushed forward by his fantastic and capricious disposition, 
corroded by a miserable restlessness, devoured by a wretched 
ambition, jealous of every one who surpassed him in loyalty 
and courage, irritated at being utterly valueless — became, 
thanks to his nothingness, the echo of every evil rumour, the 
soul of every cabal ; and pretended to lead all those brave men 
who had the folly to trust the word of a Prince of the blood, 
and who found to their cost that he disowned and abandoned 
them when they had mounted the scaffold ! Not the first 
Prince of the blood — not the King’s uncle, I repeat; but the 
murderer of Chalais, of Montmorency, and of Cinq-Mars ; who 
is now endeavouring to play the same game, and fancies that 
he shall win it because he has changed his adversary, and 
because instead of being opposed to a man who threatens, he 
has one who smiles. But he deceives himself. It never can 
be for my interest to leave near the Queen that brand of dis- 
cord by which the late Cardinal kept the King in irritation 
for twenty years.” 

The Queen blushed and concealed her face in her hands. 

I do not wish to humiliate your Majesty,”* continued 
Mazarin, in a tone of singular firmness, but at the same time 
much more calmly than before. I wish the Queen to be 
respected, and her minister also — since, in the eyes of the 
world, I am only her minister. Your Majesty knows that I 
am not, as many say, a mere Italian adventurer ; and the world 
must know it, as well as your Majesty.” 

‘^Well, then, what must I do?” said Anne of Austria, sub- 
dued by his imperious manner. 

You must endeavour to remember the names of those faith- 
ful and devoted servants who, in spite of Richelieu, leaving 
traces of their blood on all their route, crossed the sea to bring 
back to your Majesty a certain ornament wdiich you had given 
to the Duke of Buckingham.” 

Anne rose, majestic and angry, as if she had been raised by 
a steel spring, and gazed at the Cardinal with that haughty 
and dignified air which made her so powerful in her youth. 

You insult me, sir ! ” said she. 

I wish, in fine,” continued Mazarin, terminating the thought 
which she had interrupted, — I wish that you should now do 
for your husband what you formerly did for your lover.” 

Still this calumny ! ” exclaimed the Queen. ‘‘ I had thought 


ANNE OF AUSTRIA AT FORTY-SIX. 


41 


that it was forgotten, for you have not hitherto alluded to it. 
But at length you bring it forward. So much the better ! For 
now we will discuss the matter, and then it shall be done with 
-orever. Do you understand ? ” 

“ But, madame,” said Mazarin, astonished by this resump- 
ioii of energy, I do not ask you to tell me all.” 

But I, sir, wish to tell you all,” replied Anne of Austria. 
“ Listen, then. I will tell you that there were, in fact, at that 
time, four devoted hearts, four loyal souls, four trusty swords, 
which preserved more than my life, sir, for they saved my 
honor.” 

Ah, you confess it ! ” said the Cardinal. 

“ And is it the guilty only whose honour is often perilled, 
sir ? ” replied Anne of Austria. And cannot any woman be 
disgraced, solely by appearances ? Yes, appearances were 
against me, and I should have been disgraced ; and yet I swear 
that I was not guilty — I swear it ! ” 

The Queen sought for something sacred on which she might 
swear, and drawing from a closet concealed in the tapestry a 
small rosewood casket inlaid with silver, and placing it on the 
altar, — ‘‘1 swear on these sacred relics,” she continued, that 
I loved the Duke of Buckingham, but he was never my favoured 
lover.” 

And what are these, relics on which you make this oath, 
madame ? ” said Mazarin, smiling. For I tell you, madame,- 
as a E-oman, that I am incredulous.” 

The Queen detached a small golden key from her neck and 
gave it to the Cardinal, saying, Open it, sir, and see them 
yourself.” 

Mazarin, in great astonishment, took the key and opened the 
casket, in which he found nothing but a rusty knife and two 
letters, one of which was stained with blood. 

And what does this mean ? ” inquired Mazarin. 

What does it mean, sir ? ” replied Anne of Austria, with 
her queenly gesture, and pointing to the casket with an arm 
still of unrivalled beauty, in spite of her years. I will tell 
you. Those two letters are the only ones that I ever wrote to 
the Duke of Buckingham ; that is the knife with which Felton 
stabbed him. Bead the letters, sir, and you will see if I have 
spoken the truth.” 

Notwithstanding the permission he had received, Mazarin, 
governed by a natural impulse, instead of reading the letters, 


42 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


took up the knife which the dying Ihickingham had drawn 
from his wound, and which he had sent by Laporte to the 
Queen. The blade was much corroded, for the blood had turned 
into rust. Then, after a moment’s examination, during which 
the Queen had become as pale as the cloth that covered the 
altar on which she was leaning, he replaced it in the casket, 
with an involuntary shudder. 

It is well, madame,” said he ; I trust to your oath.” 

No, no, read ! ” said the Queen, with a frown ; read ! T 
wish — I command you ! So that, as I have resolved, everything 
may be now finished once and forever, and we may nev^er again 
recur to the subject. Do you think,” she said, with a terrible 
smile, ^^that I should be disposed to reopen this casket at 
every one of your future accusations ? ” 

Mazarin, vanquished by this energy, obeyed almost mechan- 
ically, and read both the letters. One was that in which the 
Queen requested Buckingham to return the diamond tags wliich 
D’Artagnan had carried, and Avhich had reached him in time ; 
the other was that which Laporte had carried to Buckingl\am, 
warning him of his assassination, and which had arrived too 
late. 

“ It is very well, madame,” said Mazarin ; nothing can be 
said against it.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said the Queen, closing the casket and placing 
her hand on it ; yes, something may be said ; and it is, that I 
have always been very ungrateful to those who saved me, and 
who did all they could to save him, — it is, that I gave nothing 
to that brave D’Artagnan, of whom you spoke just now, but 
my hand to kiss and this diamond.” 

The Queen extended her beautiful hand to the Cardinal, and 
showed him a splendid stone glittering on her finger. 

He sold it, apparently,” continued her Majesty, when 
under temporary embarrassment — he sold it to save me a 
second time ; for it was to send a messenger to the Duke, to 
warn him that he was in danger of assassination.” 

‘^Then D’Artagnan knew it?” 

He knew everything ! blow did he ? I don’t know. 
But he sold this ring to M. des Essarts, on whose linger I saw 
it, and from whom I bought it back. But this diamond belongs 
to him, sir. Give it him from me ; and, since you have the 
good fortune to have such a man near you, endeavour to make 
good use of him.” 


GASCON AND ITALIAN. 


43 


Thank you, madame. I will avail myself of your advice.” 

‘‘ And now,” said the Queen, as if exhausted by emotion, 
have you any other question to ask me ? ” 

‘‘ Nothing, madame,” said the Cardinal, in his most caressing 
voice, except to pardon me for my unjust suspicions. But I 
love you so much that it is not wonderful that I am jealous, 
even of the past.” 

An indescribable smile passed over the Queen’s lips. 

Well then, sir,” said she, “ if you have nothing more to 
ask me, leave me. You must feel that, after such a scene, I 
have need of solitude.” 

Mazarin bowed. 

‘‘ I leave you, madame ; but may I return ? ” 

“ Yes, to-morrow. I shall not have had too long a time to 
recover myself.” 

The Cardinal took her hand, gallantly kissed it, and left the 
room. 

Scarcely was he gone, when the Queen went into her son’s 
chamber and asked Laporte if he was in bed. Laporte pointed 
to the sleeping child. Anne of Austria mounted the steps of 
the bed, and softly imprinted a kiss on her son’s forehead. 
Then she retired as silently as she had entered, merely saying 
to the valet de chambre : 

“ Now, my dear Laporte, try to make the King look more 
favourably upon M. le Cardinal. We are both under the 
greatest obligations to him.” 


CHAPTER V. 

GASCON AND ITALIAN. 

In the meantime the Cardinal had returned to his cabinet, 
at the door of which he found Bernouin waiting. He inquired 
of him whether anything new had happened, and whether he 
had heard tidings from without. On his answering in the 
negative he dismissed him. 

Being now alone, he opened the door of the corridor, and 
then of the antechamber. H’Artagnau, much fatigued, was 
asleep on a bench. 

‘‘ M. d’Artagnan ! ” said he, in a soft voice:- 


.44 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


D’Artagnan did not stir. 

M. d’ Artagnan ! ’’ he repeated, in a louder tone. 

D’Artagnan still slept. 

The Cardinal went up to him and touched his shoulder. 

This time he started, awoke, and in an instant was standing 
stiff and upright, as if on parade. 

Here I am,” said he. Who calls me ? ” 

I do,” said Mazarin, with his sweetest smile. 

I beg your Eminence’s pardon,” said D’Artagnan, but I 
was so fatigued ” — 

Do not beg my pardon, sir,” replied Mazarin, for you 
fatigued yourself in my service.” 

D’Artagnan wondered at the minister’s gracious answer. 

Heyday ! ” said he, between his teeth, is the proverb 
true which says. Luck comes when one is sleeping ? ” 

Follow me, sir,” said Mazarin. 

‘‘ Come, come,” thought D’Artagnan to himself, Eochefort 
has kept his word ; but where the deuce is he gone to ? ” 

He looked into every corner of the room, but Eochefort was 
no longer there. 

M. d’Artagnan,” said Mazarin, settling himself comfort- 
ably in his easy-chair, you have always appeared to me to 
be a brave and gallant man.” 

‘^Possibly so,” -thought D’Artagnan; ‘‘but he has taken 
plenty of time in letting me know his opinion.” But this 
did not prevent his bowing to the ground in reply to Mazarin’s 
compliment. 

“Well,” continued Mazarin, “the time is arrived for me to 
profit by your talents and valour.” 

A gleam of joy flashed from the officer’s eyes, but it as 
suddenly vanished, for he knew not what Mazarin was driv- 
ing at. 

“ Monsignor has only to command,” said he ; “I am ready 
to obey your Eminence.” 

“ M. d’Artagnan,” continued Mazarin, “ you performed cer- 
tain exploits under the late reign” — 

“ Your Eminence is too good to remember them. It is true 
I served in the war with some degree of success.” 

“ I do not refer to your warlike exploits,” said Mazarin ; 
“ for although they made some noise in the world, they were 
surpassed by the others.” 

D’Artagnan assumed an appearance of astonishment. 


GASCON AND ITALIAN 


45 


I am waiting for monsignor to inform me to what exploits 
he refers.” 

I refer to that adventure — Hé ! you know very well what 
I mean.” 

Alas, no, monsignor ! ” replied D’Artagnan, now really 
astonished. 

You are discreet. So much the better. I refer to that 
adventure of the Queen — those diamond tags — that journey 
which you took with three of your friends.” 

Aha ! ” thought the Gascon, it is a regular trap ; let us 
keep on our guard.” 

And he fortified his features with an assumption of the 
most complete stolidity, such as Mondori or Bellerose, the two 
best comedians of the day, would have envied. 

Capital ! ” said Mazarin, laughing, “ bravo ! It was well 
to tell me that you were exactly the man I wanted. Come, let 
us see Avhat you would do for me.” 

Whatever your Eminence may command me to do,” replied 
D’Artagnan. 

Would you do for me what you formerly did for a queen ? ” 

“ Decidedly,” said D’Artagnan to himself, he wants to 
make me speak. But let me first see what he is aiming at. 
Plague take him ! He is not sharper than Bichelieu.” 

“ Monsignor, for a queen? I do not understand you.” 

You do not comprehend, then, that I have need of you 
and your three friends ? ” 

Of what friends, monsignor ? ” 

“ Your three old friends.” 

“ Of my three friends of old times, your Excellence ? ” re- 
plied D’Artagnan. I had not three friends — I had fifty. 
A man at twenty calls every one his friend.” 

Well, well, sir officer,” said Mazarin, ‘‘ discretion is a fine 
thing ; but now you might repent having been too discreet.” 

iVLmsignor, Pythagoras made his followers keep silence 
j c-r fivo. years, to teach them to hold their tongues.” 

\’ d you have kept it for twenty years, sir, — that is, 
fifteen more than the Pythagorean philosophers, — which ap- 
{jear -. to me quite sufficient. Speak now, therefore, for the 
Queen herself releases you from your oath.” 

'f he Queen ! ” said D’Artagnan, with an astonishment 
\ç^hich was now not put on. 

Yes, the Queen; and to prove that I speak in her name. 


46 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


she told me to show you this diamond, which she says you 
know, and which she purchased of M. des Essarts/^ 

And Mazarin held out his hand to the officer, who sighed 
on beholding the ring which the Queen had given him on the 
night of the ball at the Hôtel de Ville. 

It is true,” said D’Artagnan. I recognise that diamond ; 
it belonged to the Queen.” 

‘‘ You see, therefore, that I speak to you in her name. An- 
swer me, then, without playing this comedy any further. I 
have already told you, and I repeat it, your fortune depends 
upon it.” 

“ Faith, monsignor, I have some need of good fortune. 
Your Eminence has so long forgotten me.” 

‘‘ A week will make up for all that. Come, then ; you are 
here — but where are your friends ? ” 

1 have not the least idea, monsignor.” 

How is it you have not the least idea ? ” 

“ is true. It is long since we parted ; for all three left the 
service.” 

“ But where will you find them ? ” 

Oh, wherever they may be. That is my affair.” 

Very well. Your conditions ? ” 

“Money, monsignor, — as much as our enterprises may re- 
quire. Faith, I remember too well how greatly we were 
impeded by lack of money ; and had it not laeen for that dia- 
mond, which I was obliged to sell, we should have been com- 
pletely arrested in our course.” 

“ The devil, you say ! ” exclaimed Mazarin. “ Money — and 
]3lenty of it ! How you are getting on, sir officer ! Do you 
not know that there is no money in the King’s coffers ? ” 

“ Then follow my example, monsignor — sell the Crown 
diamonds. Believe me, you must not drive a close bargain 
with us. Great actions are but badly executed with small 
means.” 

“ Well, well,” said Mazarin, “ wewdll give you satisfaction.” 

“ Bichelieu,” thought D’Artagnan, “ would at once have 
given me five hundred pistoles as earnest money.” 

“ You will be on my side ? ” asked the Cardinal. 

“ Yes, if my friends agree to it.” 

“But should they refuse — may I still depend upon you ? ” 

“ I have never done anything well alone,” answered D’Arta- 
gnan, shaking his head. 



“TAKE THIS, THEN,” SAID HE, HEAVING A SIGH. “THIS IS FOR YOUR 
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GASCON ANT) ITALIAN. 


47 


Then go and find them.’^ 

“ And what shall I say to induce them to serve your Emi- 
nence ? ’’ 

‘‘ You know them better than I do ; and according to their 
characters, you must promise them.” 

But what am I to promise them ? ” 

Let them serve me as they did the Queen, and their reward 
shall be brilliant.” 

“ And what are we to do ? ” 

“ Everything — since it appears that you can do everything.” 

Monsignor, when confidence is reposed in men and it is 
desired that it be mutual, more definite information is granted 
them than your Eminence affords.” 

When the time of action comes,” said Mazarin, be assured 
that you shall have full information.” 

And till that time ” — 

Wait, and be finding your friends.” 

Monsignor, perhaps they may not be in Paris ; indeed, that 
is probably the case. I must therefore take a journey. I am 
only a very poor lieutenant of Musketeers, and travelling is 
expensive.” 

My intention,” said Mazarin, is, that you shall not travel 
with a great train. My projects require secrecy, and would be 
injured by too large an equipage.” 

And yet, your Excellence, I cannot travel on my pay, more 
especially as it is now three months in arrears to me ; and I 
cannot travel on my savings, seeing that for the twenty-two 
years that I have been in the service I have only laid u]3 
debts.” 

Mazarin remained a moment pensive as if a struggle were 
going on in his mind ; then going to a chest fastened with a 
triple lock, he drew from it a bag, which he weighed two or 
three times in his hand before he gave it to D’Artagnan. 

Take this, then,” said he, heaving a sigh ; “ this is for your 
journey.” 

“ If they are Spanish doubloons, or even crowns of gold,” 
thought D’Artagnan, “we may yet manage pretty well to- 
gether.” He bowed to the Cardinal, and buried the bag in his 
deep pocket. 

“ Well, then, it is settled,” said the Cardinal ; “you will start 
on your journey.” 

Yes, monsignor.” 


48 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


Write to me daily, to give me an account of your negotia- 
tions.’’ 

I will not fail to do so, monsignor.” 

‘‘ Very well ; but à propos the names of your friends ? ” 

The names of my friends ? ” said D’Artagnan, with a rem- 
nant of uneasiness. 

Yes. While you are searching for them on your part, I 
may make some inquiries on mine, and perhaps I may gain 
some information.” 

‘‘ M. le Comte delaFère, otherwise called Athos ; M. Du Val- 
lon, otherwise called Porthos ; and M. le Chevalier d’Herblay, 
now the Abbé d’Herblay, otherwise called Aramis.” 

The Cardinal smiled. 

Young men,” said he, who entered the Musketeers under 
false names, that they might not compromise their family 
names ; long swords, but light purses — I understand that.” 

If God should permit these long rapiers to pass into your 
Eminence’s service,” said D’Artagnan, I dare to express a 
hope that it may be your Eminence’s purse that may become 
light, and theirs heavy. For with these three men and myself, 
your Eminence may move all France, and even Europe, if such 
should be your pleasure.” 

“ These Gascons,” said Mazarin, almost equal the Italians 
in bragging.” 

At all events,” rejoined D’Artagnan, with a smile worthy 
of the Cardinal himself, they are better hands at using the 
rapier.” 

Then having asked for his leave of absence, which was at 
once furnished him and signed by Mazarin, he left the room. 

Scarcely was he beyond the precincts of the palace when he 
went up to a lamp and looked hastily into the bag. Silver 
crowns ! ” said he contemptuously. I suspected so. Ah, 
Mazarin, Mazarin ! you have no confidence in me. So much 
the worse ! It will only bring you ill luck.” 

In the meantime the Cardinal was rubbing his hands. 

A hundred pistoles ! ” he murmured, a hundred pistoles ! 
For a hundred pistoles I have obtained a secret for which 
Eichelieu would have paid twenty-five thousand crowns — 
without reckoning this diamond,” added he, amorously ogling 
the diamond which he had kept instead of giving it to D’Ar- 
tagnan, — without reckoning this diamond, which is worth at 
least ten thousand livres.” 


D'ARTAGNAN AT FORTY. 


49 


And the Cardinal went into his chamber, delighted with his 
evening’s success, placed the ring in a casket filled with brill- 
iants of every kind, — for he had a taste for jewels, — and 
called Bernoiiin to undress him, without allowing himself to 
be further disturbed by the noises that shook the windows at 
intervals, and the shots that still resounded throughout Paris, 
although it was now past eleven o’clock at night. 

In the meantime D’Artagnan was proceeding towards the 
Eue Tiquetonne where he lived, at the Hôtel de la Chevrette. 

Let us briefly explain how he had been led to make choice of 
this abode. 


CHAPTER VI. 

D’ARTAGJSTAlSr AT FORTY. 

Alas ! Since the time when, in our romance of The Three/ 
Musketeers,” we left D’Artagnan at No. 12 in the Rue de 
Fossoyeurs, many things had happened and many years hriot 
elapsed. his 

D’Artagnan had been ready for opportunities ; but circu'^ut 
stances had not been ready for him. So long as he was si’se, 
rounded by his friends, he had revelled in his youth and h to 
imagination. His was one of those fine and ingenuous minêce 
that easily assimilate the qualities of others. Athos gave ht-d ; 
his taste for splendor, Porthos his verve, Aramis his elegan-ii’os 
and if D’Artagnan had continued to live with these three me' who 
would have become a most superior character. First, Ai‘ the 
left him to take possession of a small estate that he 
inherited near Blois ; then ^Porthos left him to marry^elf to 
Solicitor’s widow; last, Aramis to take orders and to beig the 
an abbé. dness 

From that moment D’Artagnan, who seemed to have milage, 
up his future with that of his three friends, found himseihe 
isolated and weak, and without courage to follow a career in ' 
which he foresaw that he could gain no reputation, unless each 
of his friends should (if we may so speak) communicate to him a 
portion of that electric fluid which he had received from heaven. 

Therefore, although he had become a lieutenant of Muske- 
teers, D’Artagnan found hiinself still more isolated. He was 
not of sufficiently high birth, like Athos, to be admitted into 


50 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


the highest society, nor had he the vanity of Porthos, to make 
others believe that this was the case. He was not, like Aramis, 
sufficiently well bred to maintain his natural elegance — an 
elegance derived from himself. For some time the sweet recol- 
lection of Madame Bonacieux had stamped a kind of poetry on 
the young lieutenants mind ; but, like everything else in this 
world, this perishable recollection had been gradually effaced. 
Grarrison life is fatal even to aristocratic organizations. Of the 
two antagonistic natures making up D’Artagnan’s individu- 
ality, the material one had gradually taken precedence ; and 
very gently, and almost imperceptibly to himself, D’Artagnan, 
always in garrison, in the camp, or on horseback, had become 
— I know not what it was called at that period — what we now 
terin a regular trooper. 

Not that D’Artagnan had lost his original acuteness. Not 
at all ; on the contrary, that acuteness was perhaps even 
increased, or, at any rate, appeared doubly remarkable under 
- an exterior somewhat more unpolished. But he had applied 
hthis acuteness to the small, and not the great, purposes of life 
lig-to his material comforts — to what soldiers deem comforts; 
yotat is to say, the possession of a good bed, a good table, and a 
shood hostess. 

‘ And for the last six years D’Artagnan had found all these 
in,t the sign of the Chevrette, in the Bue Tiquetonne. 

During the first period of his abode in that hôtel, the 
of ostéfs, a fresh and pretty Flemish woman about twenty-five 
rapars of age, had been singularly taken with him. After 
TXrtagnan had had many encounters with an inconvenient 
once land, whom he had ten or a dozen times threatened to 
Scrthrough the body, that husband went off one line morning, 
went ipearing affer secretly disposing of several casks of wine 
crowr taking the money and jewels. He was thought to be 
Mazal. His wife more especially, who flattered herself with 
the 3 soft idea that she was a widow, stoutly maintained that 
.le had departed this life. At last, after a three years’ 
intimacy, which D’Artagnan took good care not to break off', 
every year finding his situation and his mistress more agree- 
able than ever, — for the one was due to the other, — his 
mistress had the unconscionable presumption to wish to 
becoine a wife, and proposed to D’Artagnan to espouse her. 

Oh, fie ! ” replied D’Artagnan. Bigamy, my dear ! 
Come, now, you cannot mean it ! 


D'ARTAGNAN AT FORTY. 


51 


^^But he is dead; I am quite sure of it.’’ 

“ He was a most perverse rogue, and is just the fellow to 
return on purpose to hang us.” 

Well, then, if he should return you will kill him ; you 
are so brave and skilful.” 

Plague take it, my dear ! that is only another mode of 
getting hanged.” 

Therefore you reject my offer ? ” 

Why, of course ; most decidedly.” 

His beautiful landlady was in despair. She would most 
willingly have made M. d’Artagnan her husband — such a 
handsome man, and such a fierce mustache ! 

About the fourth year of this intimacy, the expedition of 
Franche Comté took place, and H’Artagnan was ordered on it, 
and prepared to depart. Then came extreme sorrow, oceans 
of tears, and solemn promises of eternal fidelity. Be it 
understood that all this was on the lady’s i3art. D’Artagnan 
was too great a man to make any promise ; therefore he only 
promised to do all he could to increase his own reputation. 

In this respect his courage is well known. He did not 
spare his own person ; and in charging at the head of his 
company, he received a ball in the chest which laid him out 
on the field of battle. He was seen to fall from his horse, 
and was not seen to rise again ; therefore he was thought to 
be dead ; and all those who hoped to gain a step by it, at once 
declared that it was so. What is desired is easily bélieved ; 
now in the army — from the general of division, who desires 
the death of the commander-in-chief, even to the privates, who 
desire the death of the corporals — everybody wishes for the 
death of some one. 

But D’Artagnan was not the sort of man to allow himself to 
be killed in this manner. After having remained, during the 
heat of the day, insensible on the field of battle, the coolness 
of the night restored him to his senses ; he reached a village, 
knocked at the door of the best house, and was received as the 
French always are everywhere, when wounded. He was 
nursed, doctored, and cured ; and, better than ever, started one 
fine morning on his way back to France; and once in France, 
took the road to Paris ; and once in Paris, the direction to the 
Due Tiquetonne. 

But D’Artagnan found his room occupied by a man’s port- 
manteau, complete except for the sword. 


62 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


He must be returned/’ said he. So much the worse, and 
so much the better.” 

Of course he was thinking of the husband. 

He made his inquiries. New waiter, new maid; the mis- 
tress was gone out for a walk. 

Alone ? ” asked H’Artagnan. 

■ With monsieur.” 

So monsieur is returned ? ” 

Certainly,” replied the maid-servant, with great simplicity. 

If I had any money I would be off,” said H’Artagnan to 
himself ; but as I have none, I must wait and take counsel 
with my landlady, as to the way in which I may thwart the 
conjugal plans of this importunate ghost.” 

He was just finishing his soliloquy- - which proves that in 
great emergencies nothing is more natural than the soliloquy 
— when the maid, who was watching at the door, suddenly 
exclaimed : 

‘‘ Ah, here is madame just returning with monsieur.” 

H’Artagnan cast a glance down the street, and descried the 
landlady turning from the Hue Montmartre, hanging on the 
arm of an enormous Swiss, who strutted along in a manner 
that agreeably reminded him of his old friend Porthos. 

And is that monsieur ? ” queried H’Artagnan to himself. 

Oho ! he is grown wonderfully, I think.” 

And he seated himself where he might be easily seen. 

The hostess perceived H’Artagnan as she entered, and gave 
a slight scream. At this little scream, H’Artagnan, concluding 
that he was discovered, arose and ran and kissed her tenderly. 

The Swiss looked with an air of utter stupefaction at the 
hostess, who remained very pale. 

“ Ah ! is it you, sir ? And what do you want of me ? ” she 
added, in the greatest distress. 

This gentleman is your cousin ? — or is he your brother ? ” 
asked H’Artagnan, with the most complete imperturbability; 
and without waiting for an answer, he threw himself into the 
arms of the Helvetian, who allowed it with the most perfect 
unconcern. 

Who is this man ? ” he demanded. 

The hostess only replied by choking. 

Who is this Swiss ? ” asked H’Artagnan. 

The gentleman is going to marry me,” replied the hostess, 
between two spasms. 


D'ARTAGNAN AT FORTY. 


58 


“ Your husband, then, is dead at last ? 

What tifference does that make to you, sir ? ’’ said .the 
Swiss. 

If makes very great tifference to me,’’ replied D’Artagnan, 

seeing that you cannot marry madame without my consent, 
and that ” — 

And dat — ?” said the Swiss. 

And dat — I will not give it,” answered the Musketeer. 

The Swiss grew as red as a peony. He wore his splendid 
laced uniform, while H’Artagnan was covered with an old 
gray cloak. The Swiss was six feet tall ; D’Artagnan not 
much more than five. The Swiss considered himself as a,t 
home, and D’Artagnan seemed to him an intruder. 

“ Vill you gome out of here ? ” said the Swiss, stamping vio- 
lently, like a man beginning to be seriously angry. 

“I ? Not at all ! ” replied D’Artagnan. 

Well, then, we must resort to force,” said a waiter, who 
could not comprehend that this little man would dare resist a 
man so tall. 

You ! ” said D’Artagnan, who also began to be angry, and 
seizing the waiter by the ear, — you will first of all stand 
here, on this very spot, or I will tear off what I have hold of ! 
As for you, most illustrious descendant of William Tell, you will 
go and make up a bundle of your things which are in my 
room and incommode me, and depart as quickly as possible to 
look after other lodgings.” 

The Swiss began to laugh vociferously. I dehart ? ” said 
he ; and vy for ? ” 

Ah, very well ! ” said D’Artagnan. “ I perceive that you 
understand Trench, so come and take a turn with me, and I 
will explain the rest to you.” 

The hostess, who knew that D’Artagnan was a most perfect 
swordsman, began to weep and tear her hair. 

D’Artagnan turned to the afflicted fair one. 

Then dismiss him, madame,” said he. 

Vat nonsense ! ” exclaimed the Swiss, who had re- 
quired some time to understand the proposition that D’Arta- 
gnan had made him — vat nonsense ! Are you onat, to hro- 
hose me to make a turn vid you ? ” 

I am a lieutenant of his Majesty’s Musketeers, and 
consequently in everything your superior. But as rank has 
nothing to do with this affair, but merely our quarters, you un- . 


54 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


derstand the custom — the one who first returns will take pos- 
session of the apartment.’^ 

D’Artagnan led off the Swiss, in spite of the lamentations 
of the hostess, who really felt her heart leaning towards her 
old lover, but would not have been sorry to give a lesson to this 
haughty Musketeer, who had affronted her by the refusal of 
her hand. 

The two adversaries went straight to the trenches of Mont- 
martre. It was night when they reached them. D’Artagnan 
politely requested the Swiss to give up the room, and to return 
no more. He gave a negative sign and drew his sword. 

“ Then you will lie here,” said D’Artagnan. It is a sorry 
bed ; but it is not my fault, for it is your own choice.” 

And at these words he drew his sword and crossed that of 
his opponent. He had to do with a rough fist ; but his own 
sux^pleness was Wx^erior to all force. The German’s rapier 
could never pass the Musketeer’s. The Swiss had received 
two wounds before he was sensible of them, on account of the 
extreme cold ; nevertheless, loss of blood and .çonsequent 
exhaustion obliged him suddenly to sit down. 

There ! ” said D’Artagnan, did I not tell you so ? 
You have got yourself into a x^recious mess, pig-headed that 
you are ! fortunately, you have only received enough to 
last you about a fortnight. Hemain there, and I will send you 
your things by the waiter. An revoir ! By the by, I advise 
you to go to the Hue Montorgueil, at the sign of the Chat qui 
pelote ; a capital kitchen — that is to say, if the same hostess 
be there. . Adieu ! ” 

And thereupon he returned right merrily to his quarters, 
despatched the goods and chattels of the Swiss, whom the 
waiter found still seated in the same x>lace, astounded by the 
coolness and valor of his adversary. 

The waiter, the hostess, and all the household had the same 
consideration and respect for D’Artagnan that they would have 
had for Hercules, had he returned to earth to recommence his 
twelve labours. 

But when he was alone with the hostess — How,” said he, 
“ fair Madeline, you see the difference between a Swiss and a 
gentleman. As for you, you have behaved like the mistress of 
a pot-house. So much the worse for you, for you thus lose 
both my esteem and my custom. I have driven away the 
Swiss to humble you ; but I will no longer lodge here. I will 


, 5 "' 

D ARTAGNAN IS IN SOME EMBARRASSMENT. 65 

not live where I despise the hostess. Hallo, waiter ! Carry 
my valise to the Mind d’ Amour, Hue des Bourdonnais. 
Adieu, madame ! 

H’Artagnan, in uttering these words, was both dignified and 
pathetic. The hostess threw herself at his feet, begged his 
pardon, and retained him by a soft compulsion. Why should 
we say more ? The spitAvas actually turning — the stove was 
roaring — the fair Madeline was Aveeping. D’Artagnan felt 
hunger, cold, and love returning to him at the same moment ; 
he pardoned her, and having pardoned, he remained. 

And thus it happened that H’Artagnan lodged at the Hôtel 
de la Chevrette, in the E-ue Tiquetonne. 


CHAPTEE VII. 

d’artagnan is in some embarrassment, but one of our 

OLD ACQUAINTANCES COMES TO HIS AID, 

H’Artagnan Avas on his Avay back to his hotel very pensive, 
finding considerable pleasure in carrying the Cardinal’s bag, 
and thinking of the beautiful diamond which had once be- 
longed to him, and which he had seen for an instant shining 
on the Prime Minister’s finger. 

If that diamond should ever again come into my pos- 
session,” he said to himself, I Avould immediately convert it 
into money, and jiurchase some property round my chateau, 
Avdiich is a handsome mansion, but has for the only land apper- 
taining to it a garden not larger than the cemetery of the 
Innocents ; and there I should remain in my dignity till some 
rich heiress, attracted by my good looks, should come and marry 
me. Then I should have three boys : of the first I should 
make a man of consequence, like Athos ; of the second, a 
handsome soldier, like Porthos ; and of the third, a gentle 
abbé, like Aramis. Faith, that would be much better than 
living the life I do ! But, unhappily, that skinflint Mazarin 
Avill not give up his diamond for my sake.” 

What Avould H’Artagnan have said had he knoAvn that this 
diamond had been intrusted to the Cardinal by the Queen, to 
be given to him ? 

On entering the Eue Tiquetonne, he perceived that there 


56 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


was a great tumult there ; and a considerable crowd was col- 
lected near his quarters. 

“ Hallo,” said he, can the Hôtel de la Chevrette be on fire ? 
Or has the husband of the fair Madeline positively returned ? ” 

It was neither the one nor the other. On drawing near, he 
perceived that in front of, not his own hôtel, but before the 
next house, the crowd was collected. They were shouting and 
running about with torches ; and by the light of these torches, 
D’Artagnan perceived uniforms. 

He inquired what was the matter ; and was informed that a 
citizen, with about twenty of his friends, had attacked a car- 
riage escorted by some of the Cardinal’s Guards; but that a 
reenforcement had come up, and the citizens had been put to 
flight. The leader of the mob had taken refuge in the house 
next to the hôtel, and they were now searching it. 

In his youth, H’Artagnan would have hastened to assist the 
soldiers against the citizens. But he had grown quite cool- 
headed ; and, besides, he had a hundred pistoles in his pocket, 
and did not wish to venture into a crowd. 

He therefore entered his hôtel, without asking any more 
questions. Formerly, D’Artagnan always wished to know 
everything : now he always knew quite enough. 

He found the fair Madeline not expecting him. She sup- 
posed that he would pass the night at the Louvre, as he had 
told her he should do. She was, therefore, much rejoiced at 
his return ; the more especially as she was much alarmed by 
what was taking place in the street, and moreover had not 
now any Swiss to protect her. 

She therefore wished to talk with him, and tell him all that had 
happened. But D’Artagnan bade her have his supper carried 
up to his room, with the addition of a bottle of old Burgundy. 

The fair Madeline was drilled to military obedience ; that is 
to say, to understand a sign. This time D’Artagnan had 
deigned to speak ; he was, therefore, obeyed with double 
celerity. 

D’Artagnan took his key and his ca,hdle, and went to his 
chamber. He had been content to ’ take a room on the 
fourth floor so as not to injure the custom of the house. The 
respect we have for truth compels us to confess that it was 
just be|ow the gutter and below the roof. Here was his tent 
of Achilles ; and he slnit himself up in this chamber when- 
ever he wished to punish the fair Madeline by his '•absence. 


D'ARTAGNAN IS IN SOME EMBARRASSMENT. 57 


His first care was to hide his bag in an old desk with a new 
lock. He had not as yet had time to verify the exact amount 
which the Cardinal had given him. Then, his supper being 
served and his wine brought, he dismissed the waiter, shut the 
door, and sat down at table. It was not to reflect, as might be 
imagined. For D’Artagnan thought that things were never 
well done unless each came in its regular order. He was 
hungry — therefore he supped ; and after supper he went to 
bed. D’Artagnan was not one of those persons who think that 
the night produces wisdom : in the night D’Artagnan slept. 
But in the morning, on the contrary, quite fresh and with all 
his wit's about him, he experienced the best inspirations. For 
a long time he had had no need of thinking in the morning ; 
but he had always slept at night. 

He awoke at the earliest dawn, sprang from his bed with 
true military resolution, and walked round his chamber in 
meditation. 

In the year ’43, about six months before the death of the 
late Cardinal, I received a letter from Athos ; and where was 
it ? — let me see — oh ! it was at the siege of Besançon, I 
remember — I was in the trenches. And what did he say to 
me ? That he dwelt on a small property — yes, that ’s it — a 
small property. But where was it ? I had just read so far, 
when a gust of wind carried off the letter. Formerly I should 
have gone after it, although the wind had blown it into the most 
exposed situation. But youth is a great fault — that is to say, 
when one is no longer young. I allowed my letter to go, and 
carry Athos’s address to the Spaniards, who had nothing to do 
with it, and might as well have returned it to me. There is 
no use, therefore, in thinking of Athos. How let us see — 
Borthos — I had a letter from him also ; he invited me to a 
great hunting-match on his property, for the month of Septem- 
ber, 164G. Unfortunately, as I was in Béarn at that time, on 
account of my father’s death, the letter followed me ; and I had 
left before it arrived. But it set off in pursuit of me, and 
reached Montmedy some days after I had left that city. At last 
it caught me, in the month of April, but as it was only in the 
month of April, 1647, that it caught me, and the invitation was 
for September, ’46^ I could not take advantage of it. Let us 
see — - 1 must look for this letter ; it ought to be with the title- 
deeds of my property.” 

D’Artagnan opened an old casket that lay in a corner of his 


58 ^ TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 

cli amber, filled with parchments relative to the aforesaid prop- 
erty, which had for the last two hundred years passed entirely 
away from his family ; and he uttered an exclamation of joy 
as he there descried the gigantic handwriting of Porthos, and, 
underneath, some lines scratched by the withered hand of his 
worthy spouse. 

D’Artagnan did not amuse himself with reading the letter, 
for he well knew its contents. He hastened to the address. 
This was at the Chateau du Vallon. Porthos, however, had 
forgotten every other direction. In his pride, he imagined 
that all the world must know the chateau to which he had 
given his name. 

The devil take the vain fellow ! ’’ said D’Artagnan. 
“Always the same! I was going to begin with him, seeing 
that he ought not to want money — he who inherited the eight 
hundred thousand livres of M. Coquenard. There ! the best is 
lost ; for Athos must have become an idiot from drinking ; and 
as for Aramis, he must be entirely given up to his devotions.” 

D’Artagnan again cast his eyes on Porthos’s letter. There 
was a postscnpt' containing this sentence : 

“ I write by the same courier to our worthy friend Aramis, 
at his monastery.” 

“ At his monastery ! Yes, but what monastery ? There 
are two hundred in Paris and three thousand in France. And 
then, perhaps, on entering his monastery,* he has, for the third 
time, changed his name. Ah ! if I was a wise theologian, and 
could only recollect the subject of the thesis which he discussed 
so well with the Curate of Montdidier and the Superior of the 
Jesuits, I might ascertain what doctrine he supported, and 
might thence infer to what saint he had consecrated himself. 
What if I went to the Cardinal, and demanded an authority 
to enter every monastery ? It would be a good idea, and j)er- 
chance I might discover him there like Achilles. Yes ; but it 
would be to confess, at the very onset, my own incompetency, 
and from the first I should be ruined in the Cardinal’s estima- 
tion. Men in power are only grateful for the performance of 
impossibilities. ^ If it had been possible,’ they say, ^ I would 
have done it myself.’ And they are right. But wait a bit. 
I also received a letter from him, the dear friend, by the same 
token that he required of me a slight service,’ which I rendered 
him. Ah, yes ! But where did I put his letter ? ” 

D’Artagnan reflected a moment, and went toward the closet 


D'ARTAGNAN IS IN SOME EMBARRASSMENT. 59 


where his old clothes were hung ; there he looked for his 
doublet of the year 1648, and, as he was a methodical fellow, 
he found it hung on its peg. - He searched the pocket, and 
drew from it a paper — it was indeed Aramis’s letter. 

M. d’Artagnan,’’ it said, you must know that I have had 
a quarrel with a gentleman, who has made an appointment 
with me for this evening, at the Place Royal. As I am in the 
Church, and the affair might injure me if I communicated it 
to any other than to a friend so faithful as yourself, I write 
to you, that you may serve as my second. You must enter 

the Neuve Sainte Catherine ; under the second lamp, to the 
right, you will find your opponent. I shall be with mine under 
the third. 

^^Your devoted 

Aramis.” 

Here there was not even an adieu. 

D’Artagnan endeavoured to recall the circumstances to his 
memory. He had gone to the appointment; had there met 
the opponent indicated, whose name he had ncj^rer known ; 
had accommodated him with a jolly sword-thrust in the arm ; 
had then gone toward Aramis, who, on his side, had come to 
meet him, having already finished his affair. 

“ It is all over,^^ Aramis had said. “ I believe I have killed 
the rascal. But, my dear friend, if you ever want me, you 
know that I am completely at your service.’’ Upon which 
Aramis had squeezed his hand and disappeared under the 
arcades. 

He knew no more, therefore, where Aramis was than where 
Athos and Porthos were ; and the affair began to be sufficiently 
embarrassing, when he imagined he heard the noise of a 
window breaking in his room. He immediately thought of 
his bag, which was in his desk, and rushed out of the closet. 
He was not mistaken ; at the very moment that he went in by 
the door, a man was coming in by the window. 

Ah, wretch ! ” cried D’Artagnan, taking the man for a 
robber, and seizing his sword. 

Sir,” cried out the man, in the name of Heaven put up 
your sword, and do not kill me without hearing me. I am not 
a robber — far from it. I am an honest, well-established 
citizen, having a house of my own. I am called — But is it 
possible — you are M. d’Artaguan !” 

And you Planchet ! ” exclaimed the lieutenant. 


60 


TWENTY YEARS AETER. 


At your service, sir,” said Planchet, in a rapture of delight ; 
that is to say, if I am yet capable of it.” 

Perhaps so,” said D’Artaghan ; but what the deuce are 
you doing, running about on the roofs at seven o’clock of a 
January morning ? ” 

Sir,” said Planchet, “you must know — But, in fact, 
perhaps you must not know.” 

“,Conie, let us hear what it is,” said D’Artagnan. “ But first 
put a napkin before the broken pane, and draw the curtains.” 

Planchet obeyed ; and when he had finished — 

“ Well,” said D’Artagnan. 

“ First of all, sir,” said the prudent Planchet, “ on what 
terms are you with M. de Eochefort ? ” 

“ Why, marvellously good ; but you know well enough your- 
self that he is now one of my best friends.” 

“ Ah ! so much the better.” 

“ But what has Eochefort to do with your entering my 
chamber in this manner ? ” 

“ Ah ! see there now, sir ! First I must tell you that M. de 
Eochefort is ” — Planchet hesitated. 

“ Pardieu ! ” said D’Artagnan. “ I know very well that he 
is in the Bastille.” 

“ That is to say, he ivas there,” answered Planchet. 

“ How ? He was there ? ” exclaimed D’Artagnan. “ Has 
he, then, had the good fortune to escape ? ” 

“ Ah, sir ! ” cried Planchet in turn, “ if you call it good 
fortune, all is right. Then I must tell you that it seems that 
M. de Eochefort was sent for from the Bastille yesterday 
evening.” 

“ I know that well, since I was the person who went for 
him.” 

“ But happily for him, you did not carry him back ; for if 
I had seen you amongst the escort, believe me, sir, that I have 
always far too much respect for you ” — 

“ Finish, then, you animal ! Let me know what has hap- 
pened.” 

“Well, then, it happened that M. de Eochefort’s carriage 
was passing along the middle of the Eue de la Ferronnerie, 
through a knot of people, and that the escort roughly jostled 
the crowd ; some murmurs were excited. The prisoner con- 
sidered the opportunity favourable, told his name, and cried, 
out for assistance. I was there, and recognised the name of 


D'^ARTAGNAN IS IN SOME EMBARRASSMENT. 61 


the Comte de Rochefort ; I remembered that it was he who 
’ made me a sergeant in the regiment of Piedmont. I exclaimed 
that it was a prisoner, a friend of the Due de Beaufort. The 
mob was excited, stopped the horses, and overthrew the escort, 
i In the meantime I opened the door; M. de Rochefort jumped 
out and was soon lost in the crowd. Unfortunately, a patrol 
was passing just at the time ; it joined the Guards and charged 
us. I beat a retreat towards the Rue Tiquetonne, but ,was 
closely followed. I escaped into the house next to this. They 
surrounded and searched it ; but in vain. I found in the fifth 
story a compassionate person who concealed me between two 
mattresses. I remained in my hiding-place until near morn- 
ing ; but, expecting that the search would be renewed, I vent- 
ured out on the gutters, first looking for an entrance, and 
then an exit, in some house which was not watched. That is 
my tale, sir; and, upon my honour, I shall be in despair if 
it should be disagreeable to you.” 

‘‘ Not at all,” said D' Artagnan ; ‘‘ on the contrary, I am very 
glad, in faith, that Rochefort is at liberty. But do you know 
one thing ? — that if you fall into the hands of the King’s 
people, you will be hanged without mercy ? ” 

“ Ah ! I know that well enough,” replied Flanchet ; and 
that is what disturbs me so much; and it is also the reason 
that I am so glad to have found you ; for if you are willing to 
conceal me, no one can do it better than yourself.’” 

Yes,” said D’Artagnan, “ I wish for nothing better ; al- 
though I risk neither more nor less than my commission, if it 
was found out that I harboured a rebel.” 

Ah, sir ! you know very well that I would risk my life for 
you ! ” 

You might also add. Flanchet, that you have risked it. I 
never forget anything but what I ought to forget ; and as to 
this, I wish to remember it. Sit down there, then, and eat at 
your e'ase ; for I can perceive that you are casting very elo- 
quent glances at the remnants of my supper.” 

“ Yes, sir ; for your neighbour’s cupboard was very ill fur- 
nished as to edibles ; and I have had nothing to eat since yes- 
terday noon but a small roll and some preserve. Although I 
do not dislike sweets when they come at their proper time and 
place, I confess I found my supper rather light.” 

•• Foor fellow ! ” said D’Artagnan. Well, then, refresh 
VO irself.” 


62 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Ah, sir ! ’’ cried Flanchet, you save my life a second time.” 

And he sat himself down, and began to eat as in the glori- 
ous days of the Kiie Fossoyeurs. 

D’Artagnan continued walking up and down the room. He 
turned over in his mind what use he could make of Flanchet, 
in his present circumstances. In the meantime Flanchet 
was doing all he could to make up for lost time. At last he 
emitted that sigh of satisfaction which a hungry man breathes 
when, having laid a pretty solid foundation, he begins to make 
a slight halt. 

And now let us see,” said D’Artagnan, who thought that 
moment was arrived when he might begin his questions. 

Let us do everything in order. Do you know where 
Athos is ? ” 

“ Ho, sir,” answered Flanchet. 

The devil ! ” cried D’Artagnan. “ Do you know where 
Forthos is ? ” 

Hot at all.” 

The devil, the devil ! — and Aramis ? ” 

‘^Hot the slightest idea ! ” 

The devil, the devil, the devil ! ” 

But,” continued Flanchet, in his sly way, I know where 
Bazin is. ” 

Ah ! you know where Bazin is ? ” 

Yes, sir.” 

And where is he ? ” 

At Hotre Dame.” 

And what is he doing at Hotre Dame ? ” 

He is the beadle.” 

‘‘ AVhat ! Bazin beadle at Hotre Dame ! Are you sure of it ? ” 

Ferfectly sure ! I have seen him. I have spoken to him.” 

He must know where his master is ? ” 

“ Without the least doubt.” 

D’Artagnan reflected, then took his cloak and sword and 
prepared to go out. 

Sir,” cried Flanchet, in a most lugubrious voice, do you 
abandon me in this manner ? Consider that my sole hope is 
in you.” 

But no one will come to look for you here,” said D’Artagnan. 

“ But even if they should not come to look for me,” repli 
the prudent Flanchet, consider that the people of the hou 
who did not see me come in, will think that I am a thief.” / 



HE SAT HIMSELF DOWN AND BEGAN TO EAT 














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D'ARTAGNAN IS IN SOME EMBARRASSMENT. 63 


That ’s true,” said D’Artagnan. Let us see — can you 
speak any sort of patois ? ” 

I can do better than that, sir,” answered Planchet. I 
can speak Flemish.” 

“ And where the deuce did you learn it ? ” 

In Artois, where I served for two years. Listen : ‘ Goeden 
morgen^ mynheer, ik hen hegeeray te iveeten, the gesondhects 
omstandl ” ^ 

And what does that mean ? ” 

“ Good morning, sir ; I am very anxious to know the state 
of your health.” 

‘‘ And that you call a language ! But never mind,” added 
D’Artagnan, it will do very well.” 

He went to the door, called a waiter, and ordered him to 
tell the fair Madeline to come up. 

“ What are you doing, sir ? ” said Planchet ; ^Glo you con- 
fide our secret to a woman ? ” 

Make yourself easy ; she will not breathe a word to any one.” 

At the moment the hostess entered. She came up smiling, 
expecting to find D’Artagnan alone ; but drew back with aston- 
ishment when she saw Planchet. 

“ My dear hostess,” said D’Artagnan, ‘‘ allow me to intro- 
duce to you your brother, who is just come from Flanders, 
and whom I take into my service for some time.” 

“ My brother ! ” cried the hostess, more astonished than ever. 

Wish your sister good morning, then. Master Peter.” 

Velkom, zuster,^^ said Planchet. 

Goeden day, hroer,^’ replied the astonished hostess. 

^^Now observe,” said D’Artagnan ; this gentleman is your 
brother, whom perhaps you may not know, but I know him. 
He is just come from Amsterdam. You will clothe him during 
my absence ; on my return you will present him to me ; and 
upon your recommendation, although he cannot speak a word 
of French, as I can refuse you nothing I will take him into 
my service. Do you understand me ? ” 

That is to say, I guess what you require, and that is all 
that I require,” said Madeline. 

You are a precious woman, my sweet hostess ; and I am 
grateful to you.” 

On which, having given a nod of intelligence to Planchet, 
D’Artagnan went out to proceed to Kotre Dame. 

s ,.y, the Flemish is somewhat worse than Fluellen’s English. — N. H. D. 


64 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE DIFFERENT EFFECTS WHICH HALF A PISTOLE HAS ON A 
BEADLE AND ON A CHOIR-BOY. 

D’ Art AON AN went over the Pont Neuf, congratulating him- 
self on having found Planchet; for, while he seemed to be 
serving the worthy fellow, Planchet was really serving him. 
Nothing, in reality, could be more acceptable to him under his 
present circumstances than a brave and intelligent lacquey. 
It was true that Planchet would not, in ail probability, re- 
main long in his service ; but even on resuming his domestic 
position in the Rue des Lombards, Planchet would still be 
under obligations to him, for having almost or quite saved his 
life by concealing him ; and D’Artagnan was not sorry to have 
some connection with the bourgeoisie at the very time it 
was on the verge of war with the Court. It was like having a 
secret communication or intercourse with some one in the 
enemy’s camp ; and with a man so shrewd as D’Artagnan, 
slight things might lead to great consequences. 

He reached Notre Dame, therefore, in a disposition suffi- 
ciently contented, both with fortune and himself. He mounted 
the steps, entered the church, and addressing a sacristan, who 
was sweeping a chapel, inquired if he knew M. Bazin. 

“ What, M. Bazin the beadle ? ” said the sacristan. 

‘^The same.” 

“ There he is, officiating at Mass, yonder in the chapel of the 
Virgin.” 

D’Artagnan trembled with delight; for, in spite of what 
Planchet had said, he feared that he should not find Bazin. 
But now that he had got hold of one end of the thread, he 
was quite satisfied that he would reach the other end. 

He went and knelt down opposite the chapel, in order that 
he might not lose sight of his man. Fortunately it was low 
Mass, which would quickly be finished. D’Artagnan, who had 
forgotten his prayers, and who had omitted to take a prayer 
book, employed his leisure in examining Bazin. 

Bazin wore his costume, it must be allowed, with as much 
dignity as holiness. It was easy to see that he had reached, 
or nearly reached, the summit of his ambition, and that the 
silver-mounted haleine which he carried in his hand appeared 


THE DIFFERENT EFFECTS OF HALF A PISTOLE. 65 


as honourable to him as the bâton which Conde threw, or did 
not throw, into the enemy’s lines at the battle of Fribourg. 
His outward man had undergone a change, if we may so speak, 
completely analogous to his costume. His whole body had 
become rotund, and, as it were, canonical. The prominent 
features of his face appeared to have vanished. His nose was 
certainly there ; but the cheeks, in groAving round, had each 
stolen a part of it. The chin was making its escape into his 
neck ; and something, which Avas not actually fat, but a sort of 
pasty puffiness, had almost closed up his eyes. His hair, cut 
squarely and reverently, covered his forehead to Avithin three 
lines of his eyebroAvs. Let us hasten to say that Bazin had 
never possessed, even when it was most uncovered, more than 
an inch and a half of forehead. 

The officiating priest finished the Mass at the same time 
that D’xirtagnan did his examination ; he pronounced the 
sacramental Avords and retired, giving, to D’Artagnan’s great 
astonishment, the benediction, which all received kneeling. 
D’Artagnan’s astonishment ceased when he discovered in this 
officiating priest the coadjutor himself; that is to say, the 
famous Jean François de Gondy, Avho at that time, foreseeing 
the character he was about to play, was beginning to make 
himself popular by distributing alms. And it Avas to increase 
that popularity that he from time to time said one of those 
matutinal Masses Avhich the common people alone are accus- 
tomed to attend. 

D’Artagnan Avent on his knees like the others, received his 
share of the benediction, and made the sign of the cross ; but 
at the moment when Bazin came by, Avith eyes raised to the 
skies and marching humbly in the rear, D’Artagnan pulled 
him back by the skirt of his gown. 

Bazin loAvered his eyes, and started as if he had seen a 
serpent. “ M. d’Artagnan ! ” he exclaimed. Fade retro, 
Sat anas . . . !” 

Well noAv, my dear Bazin,” said the officer, is this the 
Avay you receive aii old friend ? ” 

“ Sir,” replied Bazin, the true friends of a Christian are 
ühose Avho lead him to salvation, and not those Avho turn him 
from it.” 

I do not understand you, Bazin,” said D’Artagnan ; and 
I do not see Iioav I can be a stumbling-block in the Avay of 
A ' ur salvation,” 


66 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


You forget, sir,” replied Bazin, that you were very near ; 
forever destroying my poor master’s ; and that so far as you 
were concerned he would have been lost eternally by remain- ; 
ing a Musketeer, when his calling led him so powerfully toward 
the Church.” 

My dear Bazin,” replied D’Artagnan, you ought to per- 
ceive, by the place in which you meet me, that I am totally 
changed. Age brings reason; and as I doubt not that your 
master is in the high road to salvation, I am come to ask you i 
where he is, that he may assist me by his counsels in securing 
my own.” 

Bather say, to lead him back with you into the world. 
Fortunately,” continued Bazin, I do not know where he is ; j 
and, as we are in a holy place, I should nht dare to tell ' 
a lie.” 

‘Œow!”said D’Artagnan, greatly disappointed; ‘‘you do | 
not know where Aram is is ? ” 

“ In the first ^place,” replied Bazin, “ Aramis was his name ' 
of perdition ; in Aramis you find Simara, which is the name of 
a demon ; and, happily for him, he has done away with that 
name forever.” 

“ Therefore,” said D’Artagnan, determined to be patient to 
the last, “ it is not Aramis that I am seeking, but the Abbé 
d’Herblay. Come, my dear Bazin, tell me where he is,” 

“ Did you not hear, M. d’Artagnan, that I said I did not 
know ? ” 

“Yes ; but to this I reply that it is impossible.” 

“ It is nevertheless true, sir, — the pure and simple truth.” 

D’Artagnan saw plainly that he should get nothing out of 
Bazin. It was quite clear that Bazin was lying ; but he was 
lying with such fervour and determination, it was evident that 
he meant to stick to it. 

“Very well,” said D’Artagnan; “since you do not knoAv 
where your master is, we will talk no more about it. Let us 
part good friends; take this half pistole to drink my health.” 

“ I do not drink, sir,” answered Bazin, pushing the officer’s 
hand back in a most dignified manner ; “ it is only good for 
the laity.” 

“ Incorruptible !” murmured D’Artagnan. “I am playing 
an unfortunate hand.” 

And as, while making this reflection, he had quitted his liold 
of Bazin’s robe, the beadle took advantage of his libeidy t(; 


THE DIFFERENT EFFECTS OF HALF A PJSTOLE. 67 

beat a rapid retreat into the sacristy, where he did not deem 
himself in safety until he had fastened the door behind him. 

D’Artagnan remained motionless, with his eyes fixed on the 
door that had closed upon Bazin, when he felt some one 
touch him gently on the shoulder. He turned, and was about 
to utter an exclamation of surprise, when he who had touched 
him put his finger on his lips, as an injunction to silence. 

“ You here, my dear Rochefort ! ” said D’Artagnan, in a low 
voice. 

Hush ! ” said Rochefort ; “ did you know that I got 
away ? ” 

Yes, I knew it at first hand.’’ 

‘‘ And from whom ? ” 

From Plauchet.” 

What ? From Planchet ? ” 

Certainly ; it was he who liberated you.” 

Planchet ? Well, I fancied I recognised him. Now that 
proves, my dear fellow, that a benefit is never thrown away.” 

“ And what are you doing here ? ” 

1 came to thank God for my fortunate deliverance,” 
answered Rochefort. 

‘‘ And for what besides ? — for I presume that is not all.” 

^^And then to receive the coadjutor’s orders, to see if we 
cannot irritate Mazarin a little.” 

How rash ! You will get yourself into the Bastille again.” 

“ Gh ! as for that, I will take X)recious good care, I warrant 
you. The free air of heaven is so delightful ! Therefore,” 
continued Rochefort, drawing a long breath, I am going to 
take a turn into the country.” 

And so am I,” said D’Artagnan. 

‘‘And without being indiscreet, may I ask where you are 
going?” 

“ To search for my friends.” 

‘ What friends ? ” 

‘ Those about whom you were asking yesterday.” 

“ What, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis ? Are you searching 
for them ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ ’Poll honour ? ” 

“ And what is there astonishing in that ? ” 

“ Oh, nothing ! Only it is droll. And who sets you search- 
ing for them ? ” 


68 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ Can’t you imagine ? ’’ 

. “ Of course I can.” 

“ Unfortunately I do not know where they are.” 

And you have no means of gaining intelligence of them ? 
AVait a week and I will give you some.” 

“ A week ! That is too long. I must find them before 
three days are past.” 

Three days,” said Eochefort ; that is but a short time, and 
France is large.” 

“ Never mind. You know the word must ; with that word 
a great deal is accomplished.” 

And when do you begin your search ? ” 

“ I have begun it.” 

Success to you, then ! ” 

And a good journey to you ! ” 

“ Perhaps we may meet on our road ? ” 

’T is not very probable.” 

AVho knows ? Fortune is so capricious.” 

Adieu ! ” 

Au revoir ! By the by, should Mazarin speak to you of 
me, tell him that I requested you to inform him that he 
should in a short time see that I was not too old for action.” 

And Eochefort left him, with one of those diabolical smiles 
which had formerly made D’Artagnan so often shudder. But 
this time he beheld it without emotion, merely smiling in turn, 
perhaps with an expression of melancholy which this recol- 
lection naturally excited. 

“ Begone, demon ! ” said he, “ and do what you will ; it is of 
little consequence to me. There is not a second Constance in 
the world ! ” 

On turning round D’Artagnan saw Bazin, who, having laid 
aside his ecclesiastical habiliments, was talking to the sacristan 
whom D’Artagnan had addressed on entering the church. 
Bazin appeared to be very animated, and was making furious 
gestures with his little short fat arms. D’Artagiian realized 
that he was doubtless enjoining the very greatest discretion 
with regard to himself. 

Taking advantage of the preoccupation of the two church- 
men, he glided out of the cathedral, and placed himself in 
ambush at the corner of the Eue des Canettes. Bazin could 
not now leave the church without D’Artagnan perceiving him. 

Five minutes after, Bazin appeared under the porch. He 


THE DIFFERENT EFFECTS OF HALF A PISTOLE. 69 


looked all around to see that he was not watched, but did not 
observe our officer, whose head alone appeared from the 
corner of a house fifty yards distant. Keassured by what he 
saw, he accordingly ventured into the Eue Notre Dame ; and 
D’Artagnan emerged from his concealment just in time to see 
him turn the Eue de la Juiverie, and enter a house of very 
respectable appearance in the Eue de la Calandre. So our 
officer did not doubt that this was where the worthy beadle 
lodged. 

D’Artagnan, however, took care not to make any inquiries 
there. The concierge^ if there was one, no doubt had his 
instructions ; and if there was not one, whom could he ask ? 

He therefore entered a small tavern at the corner of the Eue 
Saint Éloi and of the Eue de la Calandre, and asked for a 
measure of hypocras. It required a good half-hour to prepare 
this liquor properly ; and during all this time D’Artagnan 
could watch Bazin without suspicion. 

He remarked in the establishment a sharp-looking little 
rascal, of about twelve or thirteen years of age, whom he 
thought he had seen, about twenty minutes before, in the dress 
of a choir boy. He questioned him ; and, as the embryo sub- 
deacon had no interest in dissimulation, D’Artagnan learnt 
that from six to nine in the morning he exercised the office 
of choir boy, and from nine to midnight that of tavern- 
waiter. 

While he was talking with this boy, a horse was led up to 
Bazin’s house. This horse was already saddled and bridled. 
A moment after, Bazin himself came down. 

^^Look!” said the boy; ^Hhere is our beadle just going to 
start.” 

And where is he going in that fashion ? ” asked D’Ar- 
tagnan. 

am sure I do not know.” 

Half a pistole, if you can find out,” said D’Artagnan. 

For me ? ” demanded the boy, his eyes sparkling with 
delight. If I can find out where M. Bazin is going ? That 
will not be very difficult. But you are not making sport of 
me, are you ? ” 

^^No, on the honour of an officer. See, 4^1iere is the half- 
pistole ! ” And he displayed the tempting coin, but without 
giving it to him. 

AVell, I will go and ask him.” 


70 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ And that is just the way to learn nothing about it/’ said 
D’Artagnan. Wait till he is gone, and after that pry about, 
inquire, and get your information. That is your business, and 
there is the half-pistole.” And he put it into his pocket. 

“ I understand,” said the boy, with that sharp and cunning 
look characteristic of the Paris gamin. ^AYell, then, I will 
wait.” 

He had not to wait long ; five minutes afterwards Bazin set 
off at a slow trot, stirring his horse up by thumping him with 
his umbrella. When on horseback, Bazin had always used his 
umbrella as a whip. 

Scarcely had he turned the corner of the street, -when the 
boy launched himself like a bloodhound on his track. 

B’Artagnan quietly seated himself, perfectly satisfied*^ that, 
in ten minutes at least, he should know all he wanted. In 
fact, before that time had elapsed the boy returned. 

Well,” said the boy, know it.” 

And where is he gone ? ” 

“ But am I to have the half-pistole ? ” 

“ Certainly, when you have told me.” 

I want to see it. Give me hold of it, that I may be cer- 
tain it is not counterfeit.” 

There it is.” 

^‘Master,” said the boy, ^^the gentleman wants change.” 

The master, who was at his desk, gave the change and took 
the piece of money. The boy pocketed the change. 

‘^And now where is he gone?” inquired D’Artagnan, who 
was greatly amused by all these proceedings. 

“ He is gone to Noisy.” 

And how do you know that ? ” 

Oh ! it did not take much wit to find it out. I saw it was 
the butcher’s horse, which he often lets to M. Bazin. Now, 
thinks I, the butcher does not let his horse without knowing 
where he is going, although I don’t think M. Bazin capable 
of over-driving any horse.” 

And he told you that M. Bazin ” — 

^^Was going to Noisy. Besides, it seems that is his cus- 
tom — he goes there two or three times a week.” 

And do you know Noisy ?” 

I should think so indeed — my nurse lives there.” 

Is there a monastery at Noisy ?” 

Yes, a precious fine one too ! — a Jesuit monastery.” 


now DWHTAGNAN found a RAMIS, 71 

“ Good ! ’’ said D’Artagnan ; there ’s no more about 

it.’’ 

Then you are satisfied ? ” 

Yes. AVhat is your name ?” 

Friquet.” 

D’Artagnan took out his tablets and wrote the boy’s name, 
with the address of the tavern. 

Tell me, sir,” said the boy, “ are there any more half- 
pistoles to be gained ? ” 

Perhaps so,” replied D’Artagnan. 

And as he had now got all he wanted, he paid for the hypo- 
eras, which he had not drunk, and returned quickly to the 
Due Tiquetonne. 


CHAPTER IX. 

HOW d’aktagnan, looking fok aramis far away, found 
HIM on the crupper, BEHIND PLANCHET. 

On his return, D’Artagnan saw a man seated at the corner 
of the fire. It was Planchet ; but Planch et so well metamor- 
phosed, by some of the fugitive husband’s old clothes, that he 
himself could hardly recognise ' him. Madeline introduced 
him before all the waiters ; Planchet addressed him in a 
charming Flemish phrase : the officer answered him in a few 
words belonging to no language ; and the business was settled. 
Madeline’s brother entered into D’Artagnan’s service. 

D’ Artagnan’s plan was now completely arranged. He did not 
wisli to reach Noisy in daylight, for fear he should be recog- 
nised ; he had, therefore, plenty of time, as Noisy was not more 
than three or four leagues from Paris, on the road to Meaux. 

He began by making a good substantial breakfast, which is 
a bad commencement when any one wishes to employ his 
head, but is an excellent precaution before any bodily exer- 
tion. Then he changed his dress, fearing that his lieutenant’s 
uniform might breed distrust. Then he took the strongest 
and heaviest of his three swords, that he only used on great 
occasions ; and at about two o’clock he had two horses saddled, 
and, followed by Planchet, left Paris by the barrier De la 
Villette. All this time a rigid search was being made for 
Planchet in the next house to the Hôtel de la Chevrette. 


72 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


At a league and a half from Paris, finding that in his i 
impatience he had set off too early, he stopped to breathe his 
horses. The inn was filled with people of rather doubtful » 
appearance, who seemed intent upon some nocturnal adventure. - 
A man enveloped in a cloak appeared at the door ; but per- 
ceiving a stranger, he made a sign with his hand, and two of \ 
the men, who were drinking, left the house to speak t() him. j 

D’Artagnan went carelessly up to the hostess, praised her 
wine, which was most horrible stuff made at Montreuil, asked 
her some questions about Noisy, and learnt that there were 
only two houses of any consequence in that village : one ! 
belonging to Monsignor the Archbishop of Paris, and now the ' 
residence of the Duchesse de Longueville, his niece ; and the 
other a Jesuit monastery, which, according to custom, was 
the property of these worthy Pathers. Therefore, there was 
no danger of any mistake. 

At four o’clock D’Artagnan resumed his journey at a foot- 
pace, for he did not wish to arrive till the night had closed in. 
Now as, when you travel on horseback, at a foot-pace, on a 
winter’s day, in dull weather, and on a safe road, you have ^ 
hardly anything better to do than what La Fontaine says a \ 
hare does when on its form, — that is, to ponder, — so D’Arta- i 
gnan pondered ; so did Planchet. Only, as will be seen, their I 
thoughts were different. 

One word spoken by the hostess gave a particular direction 
to D’Artagnan’s thoughts; this word was the name of the - 
Duchesse de Longueville. • 

In fact, Madame de Longueville had everything to make 
a man thoughtful. She was one of the greatest ladies in ■ 
the realm, and one of the most beautiful women of the 
Court. Married to the old Due de Longueville, whom she did 
not love, she had at first been considered the mistress of 
Coligny, who was killed for her sake, in a duel, on the Place ■ 
Eoyale, by the Due de Guise; then there had been gossip 1 
about a friendship a little too tender for her brother, the ■ 
Prince de Condé ; and finally it was rumoured that this friend- ^ 
ship, which had scandalised the timorous souls of the Court, • 
had been followed by a deep and genuine hatred ; and now she j 
had, it was said, some political connection with the Prince de 
Marsillac, the old Due de la Eochefoucault’s eldest son, whom 
she was in a fair way of making the enemy of her brother, the I 
Prince de Condé. j 


HOW D'ARTAGNAN FOUND ARAM I S. 




D’Artagnan was thinking of all these things. He was 
thinking how he had often, when at the Louvre, seen the 
beantiful Madame de Longueville pass before him, radiant and 
I dazzling. He was thinking of Aramis, who, without being of 
I more consequence than himself, had formerly been the lover 
I of Madame de Chevreuse, who was, at the former Court, what 
1 Madame de Longueville was at this; and he asked himself 
; why there are some persons in the world who are successful in 
I all they undertake — some in ambition, others in love — 

I while there are others who remain, whether by chance, by bad 
fortune, or by some natural impediment, stopped midway in 
their course toward the attainment of every hope. 

He was obliged to confess that, in spite of all her talent, in 
spite of all her address, he was, and probably would continue 
to be, one of these last, when Planchet drew near and said : 

I I wager, sir, that you are thinking of the same thing that 
I I am.’’ 

I much doubt it, Planchet,” said D’Artagnan, smiling ; 

but what are you thinking of ? ” 

I am thinking, sir, of those ill-looking fellows who were 
drinking in the inn where we stopped.” 

Always prudent, Planchet.” 

’T is by instinct, sir.” 

Well, come, let us hear what your instinct says in these 
circumstances.” 

Sir, my instinct said that these people were collected to- 
gether at that inn for some bad purpose ; and I was reflecting 
on what my instinct told me, in the darkest corner of the 
stable, when a man enveloped in a cloak entered the stable, 
followed by two others.” 

“ Aha ! ” said D’Artagnan, Planchet’s account agreeing with 
his own observations ; “ well ? ” 

One of these two men said : ‘ He must certainly be at 
Noisy, or come there this evening, for I recognised his ser- 
vant.’ — ^Are you quite sure?’ said the man in the cloak. 
— ^ Yes, Prince ! ’ ” 

Prince ! ” interrupted D’Artagnan. 

“ Yes, ^ Prince ’ ! But now listen : ^ If he should be there, 
tell us distinctly what we must do,’ said tlie other man. — • 
^What must you do?’ repeated the Prince. — ^ Yes ; lie is 
not a man to aiiow Iviinself to be taken in tliat manner — lie 
will use bis swoifl.’ — ^AVell, tlien, you must do as he does. 


74 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Nevertheless, endeavour to take him alive. Have you some 
cord to bind him, and a gag ? ’ — ‘Yes, we have everything 
ready.’ — ‘E-eniember that he will, in all probability, be 
disguised as a private gentleman.’ — ‘ Oh, yes, monseigneur, 
you may be quite easy.’ - — ‘ Besides, I shall be there, and 
will give you the proper instructions.’ — ‘And you will 

insure us that justice’ ‘I am responsible for every- 

thing,’ said the Prince. — ‘ That is right, and we will do our 
best.’ And on that they left the stable.” 

“ Well,” said D’Artagnan, “ and what has all this to do 
with us ? It is one of those enterprises which take place 
every day.” 

“ And you feel satisfied that it is not directed against us ? ” 

“ Against us ? And why ? ” 

“ Consider their words : ‘ I recognised his servant,’ one of 
them said ; which might refer to me.” 

“ And after that ? ” 

“ ‘ He must be at Noisy, or come there this evening,’ said 
the other ; which might refer to you.” 

“ And then ? ” 

“ Then the Prince said : ‘ Bemember that in all probability 
he will be disguised as a private gentleman ; ’ which does not 
appear to leave any doubt, for you are dressed as a private 
gentleman, and not as an officer of Musketeers. Well, what 
do you say to that ? ” 

“ Alas, my dear Planchet,” said H’Artagnan, sighing deeply, 
“I say that, unfortunately, so far as I am concerned, the time 
is past when princes wish to assassinate me. Ah ! those were 
fine times ! Do not disturb yourself, therefore ; those people 
have nothing to do with us.” 

“ Are you quite sure, sir ? ” 

“ I will answer for it.” 

“Very well ; let us not talk any more about it.” 

And Planchet resumed his place in the rear, with that pro- 
found confidence which he always had in his master, and 
which fifteen years’ separation had not changed. 

In this manner they went about a league, at the end of 
which Planchet again approached his master. 

“ Sir ! ’’ said he. 

“ Well ?” answered D’Artagnan. 

“ Look that way, sir,” continued Planchet. “ Does it not 
appear to you that something like shadows are passing there. 


HOW D'ARTAGNAN FOUND ARAMIS. 


75 


ill the midst of the darkness ? Listen ! It seems to me that 
I the sound of horses may be heard.” 

I “ Impossible ! ” said D’Artagnan. “ The ground is softened 
I l)y the rains. And yet, as you say, I fancy I see something.” 
And he stopped to look and listen. 

“ If we cannot hear the horses’ steps, we can, at any rate, 
licar them neigh.” 

And, in fact, the neighing of a horse struck on D’Artagnaii’s 
ear through the darkness. 

These are our men,” said he, “ who are now on the road. 
But we have nothing to do with it. Let us proceed.” 

! And they went on again. In about half an hour they reached 
the first houses of Noisy. It was now between half-past eight 
and nine in the evening. 

According to country habits, every one had gone to bed, and 
not a light was to be seen in the village. 

D’Artagnan and Flanchet continued their route. 

To the right and left of the road, the dark and irregular line 
of roofs cut sharp upon the dull sky. From time to time a 
dog barked behind a door, or a frightened cat ran quietly 
from the middle of the street to take refuge in a pile of fag- 
gots, whence her eyes glared like burning coals. These were 
the only living creatures that appeared to inhabit this village. 

About the middle of the town, overlooking the principal 
place, rose a dark mass, standing between two lanes, in front 
of which some enormous lime-trees spread their slender arms. 
D’Artagnan examined this building with attention. 

This must be the Archbishop’s chateau,” said he to Flan- 
chet, the abode of the beautiful Madame de Longueville. 
But where is the monastery ? ” 

“ The monastery ? ” responded Flanchet ; “ oh, that is at 
the end of the village. I know it well.” 

‘‘Well, then,” said D’Artagnan, “there is just time, while I 
tighten my horse’s girths, for you to gallop there, and to return 
and tell me whether there is a light burning at any window in 
the Jesuits’ house.” 

Flanchet obeyed, and was instantly lost in the darkness ; 
while D’Artagnan dismounted and tightened his girths. 

In about five minutes Flanchet returned. “ Sir,” said he, 
“ there is a single lighted window on the side looking toward 
the fields.” 

“Hum! ” said D’Artagnan; “if I were a frondeur I should 


76 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


knock here, and should be sure of a good bed. If I were a 
monk, I should knock down yonder, and should be sure of a 
good supper. But as I am neither, it is very possible that we 
may sleep on the hard ground, perishing of hunger and thirst." 

‘‘ Yes,’^ added Planchet, like the famous ass of Buridan. 
In the meantime, would you like me to knock?” 

Hush ! ” said D’Artagnan. The one window lighted up 
has just grown dark.” 

Do you hear, sir ? ” inquired Planchet. 

Ah, what is that noise ? ” 

It was, in effect, like the dull sound of an approaching 
storm. At the same moment, two troops of horsemen, each of 
about ten men, issued from the two lanes that bounded each 
side of the house, and, closing every avenue, surrounded 
D’Artagnan and Planchet. 

Heyday ! ” said D’Artagnan, drawing his sword and 
sheltering himself behind his horse, while Planchet executed 
the same manoeuvre, can you have divined truly, and do they 
really mean this against us ? ” 

There he is ! We have him !” cried the horsemen, rush- 
ing towards D’Artagnan, sword in hand. 

Do not let him escape,” said a commanding voice. 

No, monseigneur, you may depend on that.” 

D’Artagnan thought the time was now come for him to join 
in the conversation. Hallo, gentlemen,” said he, in his 
Gascon accent, what do you want ? ” 

You shall soon know,” shouted the horsemen in chorus. 

Stop, stop ! ” cried he whom they called monseigneur ; ” 

stop, on your lives ! It is not his voice.” 

Aha, gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, are you peradventure 
crazy here at Noisy ? Only take care of yourselves ; for I 
warn you that the first man who comes within the reach of 1113" 
sword, and it is a pretty long one, will have it through his 
body.” 

The leader came up. 

What are you doing here ? ” demanded he, in a haughty 
voice, as of one accustomed to command. 

And what are you doing here ? ” cried D’Artagnan. 

Be civil, or you shall be well curried ; for although I may 
not wish to give my name, I will be respected, as my ranlc 
demands.” 

“ You do not wish to give jumr name, because you are lead- 


HOW D'AHTAGNAN FOUND ARAMIS. 


77 


ing ail ambush ; but I, who am quietly travelling with my ser- 
vant, have not the same reasons tor concealing mine.” 

“ Enough ! enough ! What is your name ? ” 

; 1 tell my name that you may know where to tiiul me, sir, 

monseigneur, or prince, by whichever of these titles you are 
j ]>leased to be called,” said our Gascon, who did not wish to 
I a^ipear to yield to a threat. “ Do you know M. d’Artagnan ? ” 
i “ Lieutenant of the King’s Musketeers ? ” inquired the voice. 

' “ The same.” 

“ Yes, certainly.” 

‘MVell, then, you must have heard that he has a strong 
I wrist and a sharp sword ? ” 

You are M. d’Artagnan ?” — 

I am.” 

Then you are come here to defend him ? ” 

Him ! — and what him ? ” 

“ Him whom we seek.” 

‘‘ It seems,” said D’Artagnan, “ that while I thought I was 
coming to Noisy, I have entered the kingdom of riddles unwit- 
tingly.” 

Come, answer ! ” cried the same haughty voice ; are you 
waiting for him under this window ? Did you come to Noisy 
to defend him ? ” 

I am waiting for no one,” replied D’Artagnan, who was 
beginning to lose his temper. I mean to defend no one but 
myself; and myself I will defend vigorously, I assure you.” 

“ Very well, then,” said the voice, “ go along with you, and 
leave the place free for us.” 

Leave this place ? ” continued D’Artagnan, with whose 
plans this order interfered ; ^Gt is no such easy matter, seeing 
that I and my horse are overwhelmed with fatigue ; unless, 
indeed, you feel disposed to offer me a supper and a bed in the 
neighbourhood.” 

Rascal ! ” exclaimed the voice. 

“ Sir ! regulate your language a little, I beg of you ; for if you 
use a second term like that, were you a marquis, duke, prince, 
or king, I will make you swallow it again, do you hear ? ” 

“ Come, come,” said the leader, there is no mistake. It is 
really a Gascon who is speaking, and, consequently, not the 
person we are looking for. Onr plan has failed for this even- 
ing; let us retire. We shall meet again. Maître d’Artagnan,’’ 
added the leader, raising his voice. 


78 


TWENTY YEARS AETER. 


Yes ; but never under the same advantages/’ replied the 
Gascon, bantering him ; “ for when you meet me again, per- 
haps you will be alone, and it may be daylight ! ” 

Very well — very well ! ” said the voice. “ Forward, gen- 
tlemen ! ” 

And the troop, murmuring and grumbling, disappeared in 
the darkness, going toward Paris. 

D’Artagnan and Planchet remained a moment on the defen- 
sive ; but as the sound lessened, they sheathed their swords. 

You see clearly, you fool,” said D’Artagnan, with the 
greatest coolness, “ that they had no quarrel with ns.” 

But who else ? ” asked Planchet. 

Faith, I know not ; neither do 1 care. What I want is to 
get into the Jesuits’ monastery; so mount your horse and go 
and knock there. Come what may, in the devil’s name they 
will not eat ns ! ” 

And D’Artagnan vaulted into his saddle again. 

Planchet had just done the same, when an unexpected 
weight fell on the hind part of his horse, which almost gave 
way under it. 

“ Oh, sir,” cried Planchet, there is a man behind me ! ” 

D’Artagnan turned, and saw, in fact, two human forms on 
Planchet ’s horse. 

“ So then it is the devil following us ! ” said he, drawing his 
sword and preparing to charge the intruder. 

Ko, my dear D’Artagnan,” answered this intruder, ‘‘ it is 
not the devil ; it is I — it is Aramis ! Gallop on, Planchet ; 
and at the end of the village, turn to the left.” 

And Planchet, carrying Aramis on the crupper, set off at a 
gallop, followed by D’Artagnan, who began to fancy that he 
was in some incoherent and fantastic dream. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE ABBÉ d’hEBBLAY. 

At the end of the village Planchet turned to the left, as 
Aramis had desired him, and stopped under the window that 
had a light in it. Aramis jumped down and clapped his 
hands three times. Instantly the window opened and a rope 
ladder was let down. 


THE ABBÉ D'HERBLAY. 


79 


My dear fellow/’ said Aramis, “ if you will mount I shall 
be delighted to receive you.” 

‘‘ Ah ! ” cried D’Artagnau, ‘‘is that the way you enter your 
house ? ” 

“ After nine at night it is necessary, by God ! The monas- 
tery rules are monstrous severe.” 

“ Pardon me, my dear Aramis,” said D’Artagnan ; “ I imag- 
ined that you said ‘ by God ’ ! ” 

“Do you think so?” repliea Aramis, laughing. “It is 
possible. You cannot conceive, my dear fellow, how one gets 
into bad habits in these cursed monasteries, and what bad 
manners all those Churchmen have with whom I am obliged 
to associate. Put you do not ascend.” 

“Go first, and I follow you.” 

“As the late Cardinal said to the late King — ‘to show you 
the way. Sire.’ ” 

Aramis nimbly mounted the ladder, and in an instant had 
reached the window. 

D’Artagnan mounted after him, but more gently. It was 
very perceptible that this kind of road was less familiar to him 
than to his friend. 

“ I beg your pardon,” said Aramis, seeing his friend’s awk- 
wardness ; “had I foreseen your visit, I would have had the 
gardener’s ladder; but for myself alone this is quite suffi- 
cient.” 

“ Sir,” said Planchet, when he saw that his master had 
nearly accomplished his ascent, “this is all very well for M. 
Aramis, and for you also; and, indeed, it would do very well 
for me, but — the two horses cannot mount the ladder.” 

“ Lead them under that shed,” said Aramis, X->ointing to a 
building on the i)lain ; “ you will there find some straw and 
oats for them.” 

“ Put for myself ? ” inquired Planchet. 

“ You will return under this window, clap your hands three 
times, and we will let down some x)i‘ovisions for you. Make 
yourself easy, my good fellow; no one dies of hunger here. 
Go.” 

And Aramis, drawing the ladder after him, shut the window. 

D’Artagnan examined the room. Never had he seen an 
apartment more warlike and at the same time more elegant. 
At each corner were military trophies, offering to the sight 
and the hand swords of every kind ; while four large pictures 


80 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


represented tlie Cardinal de Lorraine, the Cardinal de Kichelieu, 
the Cardinal Lavalette, and the Archbishop of Bordeaux, all in 
their warlike costume. Nor was there anything else that at 
all indicated the abode of an abbé. The hangings were of 
damask ; the carpet came from Alençon ; and the bed, especially, 
was nnore like that of a coquette, with its furniture of lace 
and its embroidered coverlet, than that of . a man who had 
made a vow to reach heaven by self-denial and mortification 
of the flesh. 

You are inspecting my den, are you ? ” said Aramis. Ah, 
my dear fellow, excuse me ; what would you have ? I am lodged 
like a hermit. But what are you looking for ? ’’ 

I want to know who threw you the rope ladder. I can see 
no one ; and yet the ladder could not descend by itself.^^ 

“No — it was Bazin.” 

“ Aha ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

“But,” continued Aramis, “M. Bazin is a well-drilled 
servant, who, seeing that I did not return alone, discreetl}^ 
retired. Sit down, my dear friend; let us have some talk.” 
And Aramis pushed a large easy-chair towards D’Artagnan, 
on which he reclined most comfortably. 

“ In the first place, you will sup with me, wdll you not ? ” 
said Aramis. 

“ Yes, if you really wish it,” replied D’Artagnan ; “ and I 
confess that it will be with great x>leasure, for the ride has 
given me an infernal appetite.” 

“ Ah ! my poor friend,” said Aramis, “ you will find but 
meagre fare here, for you were not expected.” 

“ And am I threatened with an omelette de Crevecœur, and 
with ‘ theobromes ’ ? — was not that the name you gave to tlie 
spinach ? ” 

“ Oh ! we may hope,” replied Aramis, “ that, by the assist- 
ance of God and Bazin, we shall find something better in the 
larder of the good Jesuits. Bazin, my friend,” continued 
Aramis, “come hither.” 

The door opened and Bazin appeared ; but on seeing D’Arta- 
gnan, he uttered what seemed like a cry of despair. 

“ My dear Bazin,” said D’Artagnan; “ I am delighted to see 
with what perfect coolness you lie, even in a church.” 

“ Sir,” replied Bazin, “ I have learnt from the good Jesuit 
Fathers that it is allowable to lie, when it is done with a good 
purpose.” 


THE ABBÉ D' HE RB LA Y. 


81 


“ Very well — very well, Bazin. M. d’Artagnan is dying 
with hunger, and I also. Therefore, give us the best supper 
you can ; and, more especially, let us have some good wine.’’ 

Bazin bowed in token of obedience, heaved a deep sigh, and 
left the room. 

“Now that we are alone, my dear Aramis,” said D’Arta- 
gnan, turning his eyes from the apartment to its inhabitant, 
and terminating his examination by observing his dress, “ tell 
me where the deuce you came from when you dropped on to 
Planchet’s crupper ? ” 

“ Zounds ! ” replied Aramis ; “ from heaven of course.” 
“From heaven!” exclaimed D’Artagnan, shaking his head. 
“ You have as little of the appearance of one just come from 
hea - eii as you have of one who is likely ever to go there ! ” 
“ dear friend,” said Aramis, with an air of conceit which 
D’ A rtagnan had never perceived while he was a Musketeer, 
“ if 1 did not come from heaven, at all events I came from 
pi. radi e; — which is much the same thing.” 

•'Î 1 cn the Jearned have at length settled the question,” 
r^'acd D'Artagnan. “Up to this time they could not agree 
' the precise situation of paradise. Some placed it on 
AÎO Avj.i'at ; others, between the Tigris and the Euphrates; 
but ^secais that they looked for it a great way off, when it 
wasiry near. Paradise is at Noisy-le-Sec, on the site of the 
of the Archbishop of Paris. The way to leave it is 
n<d. 1 1|.{» door, but by the window ; you must descend, not 
ov tHiiarble steps of a peristyle, but by the branches of a 
iindei^'i 0 ^ and the angel wdth the flaming sword which 
guard “ Pas ‘hanged his heavenly name from that of Gabriel 
to the^ie er i'thly one of the Prince de Marsillac.” 

.\ra.^ burst out laughing. 

“ Ycyeve always a pleasant companion, my dear,” said he, 
“ and you hav not lost your witty Gascon humour. Yes, there 
13 some little ^ ruth in what you say. Only do not leap to the 
conclusion that I am in love with Madame de Longueville.” 

“Plague on it! I will take good care of that,” cried 
D’Artagnan. “ After having been so long in love with 
Madame de Chevreuse, you could not possibly have transferred 
your affections to her bitterest enemy ! ” 

“ Yes, that is true,” replied Aramis, in a careless manner. 
“ Yes, the poor duchess — I loved her very much formerly ; 
and to give her her due, she was mighty useful to us. But 


82 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


what would you have ? She Avas obliged to leave France. 
That cursed Cardinal was such a rough adversary ! ” continued 
Aramis, casting a glance at the former minister’s portrat ; he 
had given orders to arrest her, and to carry her to the castle 
of Loches. Faith, he Avould have cut off her head, as he did 
for Chalois, Montmorency, and Cinq-Mars, had she not 
escaped, disguised as a man, Avith that poor little Kitty. And 
a strange adventure happened to her in some village, as I 
have heard, Avith some parish curé whose hospitality she 
demanded, and Avho, having only one chamber, and taking her 
for a gentleman, offered to share it Avith her. She certainly 
Avore a man’s dress in a most credible manner, our dear Marie. 
I know only one woman who does it as well , therefore the 
following couplet has been made upon her: 

Laboissiere, dis-moi ! 

Do you knoAV it ? ” 

No ; sing it, my dear.” 

And Aramis began in a most gallant manner ; 


'•'■Laboissière dis-moi 


Suis-je pas bien en homme f 
‘ Vous chevauchez^ ma foi 

Mieux que tant que nous sommes.' 


Elle est 

■ 1 ii 

Parmi les hallebardes 

Au régiment des gardes 

'D 

Comme un Cadet.” ^ 


Bravo ! ” cried D’Artagnan. You sing 

my dear Aramis ; and 1 find that the Mass 

as well' ever, 
has nc^poiled 


your voice.” . . . 

My dear,” ansAvered Aramis, you understf^ Avlien 
I Avas a Musketeer I mounted guard as seldom a^^^^sible ; 
and noAv that I am an abbé I say as few Massc^^ ^ can. 
But let us return to our poor duchess.” 

“ Which ? The Duchesse de Chevreuse or the Duchesse de 
Longueville ? ” 

“ My dear, I have told you that there is nothing betAveen me 


1 Laboissière, tell me 
Do I not look well dreBsed like a man ! 
“ Yon stride your steed 
Better than we indeed.” 

She is 

Among the halbardiers 
In the regiment of the Guards 
Like a Cadet. 


THE ABBÉ D'HERBLAY. 


83 


and the Duchesse de Longueville ; a little flirtation possibly, 
nothing more. No, I was speaking of the Duchesse de Che- 
vreuse. Did you ever see her on her return from Brussels 
after the King’s death ? ” 

Yes, certainly ; and she was still very beautiful.” 

“ Yes,” continued Aram is ; therefore I saw her sometimes 
at that period, and gave her some excellent advice, of which 
she did not take advantage. I assured her that Mazarin was 
the Queen’s lover. But she would not believe me, saying that 
she knew Anne of Austria, and that she was too proud to love 
such a puppy. Then she threw herself into the Due d’l^eau- 
f ort’s cabal, and that puppy caused the Duke to be arrested, and 
banished Madame de Chevreuse.” 

You know, I suppose,” said D’Artagnan, “ that she has 
obtained permission to return ‘f ” 

‘‘Yes ; and that she is returned. She will be again com- 
mitting some folly.” 

“ But this time, perhaps, she will follow 3'our advice.” 

“ Oh ! this time,” said Aramis, “ I have not seen her ; she js 
greatly changed.” 

“ This is not the case with you, my dear Aramis, for you are 
just the same : you have got the same handsome black hair, 
the same elegant figure, and the same delicate hands.” 

“ Yes,” answered Aramis, “ I take care of myself. Do 
you know, my dear, I am getting old ? I am almost thirty- 
seven.” 

“ Now, as we have met, my dear,” said D’Artagnan, smiling, 
“ let us settle one thing ; that is, the age we shall be for the 
future.” 

“What do you mean ?” asked Aramis. 

“ Why,” replied D’Artagnan, “ formerly I was two or three 
years younger than you, and, if I am not mistaken, I have 
completed my fortieth year.” 

“ Beally ? ” said Aramis. “ Then I must be mistaken; for 
you were always an admirable mathematician. By your ac- 
count, therefore, I must be forty-three years old. The devil, 
the devil ! My dear fellow, you must not go and tell this at 
the Hôtel de Rambouillet ; it would do me great harm.” 

“Be assured that I will not go there,” said D’Artagnan. 

“ But what can that animal, Bazin, be doing ? ” cried Aramis. 
“ Quick, tlien, you rascal ! We are going mad of hunger and 
thirst.” 


84 


TWENTY YEARS AETER. 


Bazin, who entered at this moment, raised his hands, filled 
with bottles, up to heaven. 

“ Are you ready at last ? ’’ demanded Aramis. 

Yes, sir, directly,” answered Bazin; but it requires some 
time to bring up all these ” — 

“ Because you fancy that you have got your beadle's gown 
on your shoulders,” broke in Aramis, and that you pass all 
your time in reading your breviary. But I warn you that if, 
from being always engaged polishing all those things in the 
chapel, you neglect to furbish up my sword, I will make a 
great fire of all your blessed images, and roast you alive with 
them.” 

Bazin, much scandalised, made the sign of the cross with 
one of the bottles. D’Artagnan, more than ever surprised at 
the tone and manners of the Abbé d’Herblay, which were so 
different from those of Aramis the Musketeer, remained with 
hi« eyes fixed in open astonishment on his face. 

Bazin quickly covered the table with a damask cloth, and on 
it arranged so many delicate, delicious, and tempting things 
that D’Artagnan was quite astounded. 

“ But you must have been expecting some one ? ” said the 
officer. 

Oh ! ” cried Aramis, I have always something in case of 
need; besides, I knew that you were looking after me.” 

From whom ? ” 

“ From Bazin, who took you for the devil, my dear, and 
who hastened here to warn me of the danger that threatened 
my soul if I received such bad company as an officer of Mus- 
keteers.” 

Oh, sir ! ” cried Bazin, joining his hands with an air of en- 
treaty. 

Come, no hypocrisy ! You know that I do not like it. You 
would do much better to open the window and lower some 
bread, a chicken, and a bottle of wine to your friend Flanchet, 
who has been killing himself for the last hour with clapping 
his hands.” 

In fact. Flanchet, after having fed his horses, had returned 
to the window, and had three or four times ;-epeated the signal 
agreed upon. 

Bazin obeyed, fastened the articles mentioned to the end of 
a cord, and lowered them to Flanchet, who, desiring nothing 
more, retired with them into the shed. 


THE A BBÉ D'HERBLA Y. 


85 


Now let us sup,” said Aramis. 

The two friends placed themselves at table, and Aramis 
began to cut up a fowl, some partridges and ham, with true 
gastronomic skill. 

“ Plague take it,” said D’ Artagnan, “ how you live ! ” 

“ Yes, pretty well. The coadjutor procured me a dispensa- 
tion from Pome for fast days, on account of my health. Then 
you must know I have taken for my cook the ex-cook of La- 
follone, the Cardinal’s old friend, that famous gourmand, who 
for grace after dinner always said, “ Good Lord, grant power 
to digest all I have eaten ! ” 

“ Which did not prevent his dying of indigestion,” said 
D’Artagnan. 

“ What would you have ? ” replied Aramis, with an air of 
resignation. “No one can avoid his destiny.” 

“ Will you pardon me, my dear,” said D’Artagnan, “ for the 
question I am about to ask you ? ” 

“ Oh, you know there can be no ceremony between us.” 

“ Are you, then, become rich ? ” 

“Oh, by no means. I make about twelve thousand livres a 
year, independent of a small benefice of a thousand crowns 
which the Prince gave me.” 

“ And how do you make this twelve thousand livres a 
year ? ” inquired D’Artagnan. “ By your poems ? ” 

“No ; I have renounced poetry, except occasionally that 
I make a drinking song, or some love sonnet, or innocent epi- 
gram. I make sermons, my dear.” 

“ Sermons ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, prodigious sermons, do you see, — at least, they 
are considered so,” 

“ Which you preach ? ” 

“ No — which I sell.” 

“ To whom ? ” 

“To those of my brethren who are ambitions of being 
thought fine preachers.” 

“ Ah, really ! And have you not been tempted to gain the 
same reputation for yourself ? ” 

“ Yes, my dear fellow ; but nature carries the day. When I 
am in the pulpit, if a pretty woman looks at me, I look at her 
again ; if she smiles, I smile ; then speak at random, and, 
instead of talking of the torments of hell, I speak of the joys 
of paradise. See, now, what happened to me one day at the 


86 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Church of St. Louis-au-Marais. A gentleman laughed in my 
face. I left off, to tell him that he was a fool. The people 
went out to pick up stones ; but, in the meantime, I so changed 
the feelings of the assembly that they stoned the gentleinan. 
It is true, he called upon me the next day, thinking he had to 
do with an abbé of the common stamp.” 

And what was the result of this adventure ? ” inquired 
D’Artagnan, holding his sides with laughter. 

“ Why, that we made an appointment for the next day, 
on the Place Eoyale^ and, pardieu, you know something about 
that.” 

“ And did I serve as your second against that impertinent 
fellow ? ” asked D’Artagnan. 

“ Exactly so. You saw hoAV I settled his business.” 

And did he die ? ” 

I have not the least idea. P>ut, at all events, I gave him 
absolution in articulo mortis ! It is enough to kill the body 
without killing the soul.” 

P>azin made a sign of despair, which meant that he approved 
of the morality, but not of the tone in which it was uttered. 

Bazin, my friend,” said Aramis, ‘^you do not observe that 
I can see you in the mirror, and that I have strictly forbidden 
any sign of apj^robation or disapprobation. You will, there- 
fore, do me the pleasure of putting the Spanish Avine on to the 
table and retiring to your own apartment. Besides, my friend, 
M. d’Artagnan has something confidential to say to me. Is it 
not so, D’Artagnan ? ” 

D’Artagnan nodded in assent, and Bazin retired, after haA^- 
ing placed the Si:)anish Avine upon the table. 

The two friends being alone remained a feAV minntes silent. 
Aramis appeared to be Avaiting for a soft digestion. D’Arta- 
gnan Avas preparing his exordium. Each cast a furtive glance 
at the other. 

Aramis first broke the silence. 


THE TWO GASPARDS. 


87 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE TWO OAS FARDS. 

What are you thinking of, D’Artagnan ? said he, and 
which of your thoughts makes you smile ?” 

“ I am thinking, my dear, that while you were a Musketeer 
you always had a leaning toward the abbé ; and now that you 
are an abbé you appear to me to incline much towards the 
Musketeer.” 

It is true,” replied Aramis, laughing. Man, you know, 
my dear D’Artagnan, is a strange animal — a complete system 
of contradictions. Since I have become an abbé, I dream of 
nothing but battles.” 

That is evident enough by your furniture : you have 
swords of every description, and suited to the most fastidious 
tastes. Do you fence as well as ever ? ” 

^Wes ; I fence as you did formerly — perhaps even better. 
I do nothing else all day.” 

And with whom ? ” 

“ With a most excellent fencing-master that we have here.” 

^^What! Here?” 

Yes, here, in this monastery, my dear. There are some 
of all sorts in a Jesuit monastery.” 

^‘Then you would have killed M. de Marsillac if he had 
come alone to attack you, instead of with his twenty men ? ” 

Most assuredly,” replied Aramis ; and even at the head 
of his twenty men, if I could have drawn my sword without 
being recognised.” 

God forgive me ! ” said D’Artagnan, in a low voice, but 
I believe that he has actually become more Gascon than 
myself.” Then he added aloud, Well, my dear Aramis, you 
asked me why I was seeking for you.” 

Ho,” said Aramis, in his shrewd manner, I did not ask 
you ; but I am waiting for you to tell me.” 

Well, then, I was seeking frankly for you to offer you the 
means of killing M. de Marsillac when you like, prince though 
he be.” 

Come, come,” said Aramis ; that is an idea ! ” 

Of which I invite you to take advantage, my dear. 
Come — with your benehce of a thousand crowns and the 


88 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


twelve thousand livres that you make by your sermons — are 
you rich ? Answer me frankly.” 

“I ? No, I am as poor as Job; and if you thoroughly rum- 
maged my pockets and coffers, I verily believe that you could 
not hiid a hundred pistoles.” 

Plague take it ! — a hundred pistoles,” said D’Artagnan to 
himself, “ and that he calls being as poor as Job ! If I had 
so much always at hand, I should consider myself as rich as 
Croesus.” 

Then D’Artagnan inquired. 

‘‘ Are you ambitious ? ” 

As Enceladus ! ” 

Well, then, my friend, I give you the opportunity of 
becoming rich, powerful, and free to do anything you wish.” 

The shadow of a cloud passed across Aramis’s forehead as 
rapidly as that which moves over a field of corn in the month 
of August ; but, rapid as it was, it did not escape D’Artagnan’s 
observation^ 

‘‘ Speak,” said Aramis. 

One more question first. Are you engaged in politics ? ” 

A flash glanced from Aramis’s eyes as rapidly as the cloud 
that had passed across his brow ; but this, also, did not 
escape D’Artagnan. 

“ No,” replied Aramis. 

Therefore, any propositions would suit you, as you have 
for the time being no other master than God,” said^ the Gascon, 
laughing. : 

‘‘ It is possible.” 

“ Have you, my dear Aramis, sometimes thought of those 
bright days of our youth, which we passed amid laughter, 
drinking, and fighting ? ” 

“ Yes, certainly ; and more than once I have regretted them. 
It was a happy time ! — Delectabile tempus ! ” 

‘‘Well, then, my dear, those bright days may be renewed — 
that happy time may return. I have received a commission 
to go and find my companions ; and I wished to begin with 
you, who were the soul of our association.” 

Aramis bowed in a manner that was more polished than 
affectionate. “ To lead me back to politics,” said he in a lan- 
guishing voice, and throwing himself back in his easy-chair. 
“ Ah ! my dear D’Artagnan, you see what a regular and easy 


THE TWO G A SHARDS. 


life I lead ; and we have, as you well know, experienced tiit. 
ingratitude of the great.” 

“ It is true,” replied D’Artagnan ; but perhaps the great 
repent of their ingratitude.” 

In that case,” said Aramis, it would be quite another 
thing. There is pardon for every sin. Besides, you are right 
on one point, which is that if one felt any desire to mingle in 
affairs of State, the time is just ripe for it.” 

And how do you know that — you who are not engaged 
in politics ? ” 

Ah, mon Dieu, without engaging personally in them, I live 
in a circle which is much occupied with them. While culti- 
vating poetry, while making love, I am connected with 
Sarazin, who is most intimate with M. de Conti; vHth jVI. 
Voiture, who is the friend of the coadjutor ; and wit^i M. de 
Bois-Kobert, who, since he no longer belongs to Cardinal 
Richelieu, is attached to no one, or to all the world, whichever 
you like ; so that the political movement has not entirely 
escaped me.” 

I suspected so,” said D’Artagnan. 

Besides, my dear, do not take all I am going to say 
merely for the words of a cenobite — of a man who speaks 
like an echo, by purely and simply repeating what he has 
heard,” continued Aramis. I have heard that, at this 
moment, the Cardinal Mazarin is very much disturbed by the 
appearance of affairs. It seems that his orders do not com- 
mand that lespect which was formerly paid to those of our 
ancient bugbear, the late Cardinal, whose picture you see here ; 
for, whatever may be said of him, it must be confessed, my 
dear, that he was a great man.” 

“ I will not contradict you on that point, my dear Aramis. 
He made me a lieutenant.” 

My first impression,” continued Aramis, was entirely in 
favour of the Cardinal. I said to myself, a minister is never 
loved ; but with the talént which he confessedly has, he will 
finally triumph over his enemies and make himself feared, 
which, in my opinion, is perhaps better than being loved.” 

D’Artagnan gave a nod, which signified that he wholly 
approved this doubtful maxim. 

You see,” continued Ainaris, what was my first opinion ; 
but as I am profoundly ignorant on such subjects as these, 
and as the humility which I ])rofess (compels me not to trust 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


to my own judgment, I made inquiries. Well, then, my dear 
friend ” — 

“ Well, and what then ? ” inquii-ed D’Artagnan. 

Well, then,” replied Aramis, I must mortify my pride 
and confess that I was mistaken.” 

Indeed ! ” 

Yes ; as I have said, I made inquiries, and the answers 
which I have received from many persons, all of different 
tastes and pursuits, have satisfied me that M. de Mazarin is 
not a man of genius, as I at first imagined.” 

“ Bah ! ” cried D’Artagnan. 

‘‘No; he is a man of no consideration, who was the servant 
of Cardinal Bentivoglio, and has thrust himself forward by 
intrigue ; an upstart, a nameless man, who, in France, Avill 
only act as a partisan. He will heap up loads of Avealth, Avill 
much dilapidate the King’s rcA^enues, Avill ]mt into his own 
pocket the pensions which the late Cardinal de Bichelieu 
dispensed to every one, but will never govern firmly, nobly, 
and honourably. It appears, also, that this minister is no 
gentleman either in manners or at heart, but a f?ort of buffoon, 
a Punchinello, a Pantalon. Do you know him ? I haAm. not 
that pleasure.” 

“ Ah ! ” said D’Artagnan, “ there is some truth iu Avhat you 
say.” 

“ Weir, you flatter me extremely, my dear, if, gifted as 1 am 
by nature AAÛth a certain vulgar penetration, I can agree Avith 
such a man as you, Avho are living at Court.” 

“ But you have spoken of him personally, and not of his 
party and resources.” 

“ That is true. He has the Queen Avith him.” 

“ That is something, I think.” 

“ But he has not the King on his side.” 

“ A mere boy.” 

“ Yet a boy Avho will attain his majority in four years.” 

“ But it is of the present time tha,t I speak.” 

“ Yes, but not the future. And even at present, he has 
neither the parliament nor the people for him, and that means 
the money; neither the nobility nor the princes, and that 
means the sword.” 

D’Artagnan scratched his ear. He Avas obliged to confess 
to himself that this Avas not oidy an enlightened but a correct 
view of affairs. 


THE TWO GA SPA RDS. 


91 


“Judge now, my dear friend, whether I still possess my usual 
I penetration. But perhaps I am Avrong in speaking so oy)enly 
to you, who appear to me to have a leaning toward Mazarin.” 

“ I ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan ; “ not the least in the world.” 

“But you were speaking of some service.” 

“ Did I speak of some service ? Then 1 Avas Avrong. No ; I 
I said to myself, as you did, — affairs are getting embroiled; let 
I us throAV the feather into the air, and follow Avhither the Avind 
bloAvs. Let us resume our life of adventure. We Avere four 
valiant knights — four hearts warmly united. Let us again 
: unite — not our hearts, for they have never been separated, 
but our fortunes and courage. The opportunity is favourable 
to gain something better than a diamond.” 

“ You are right, D’Artagnan ; always right,” continued 
Aramis ; “ and the proof is, that I had the same idea ; only, 
not having your nervous and fertile imagination, it Avas sug- 
gested to me. Every one now wants auxiliaries. Propositions 
have been made to me. Something has transpired about our 
famous exploits of old ; and I will frankly tell you that the 
coadjutor has applied to me.” 

“ What, M. de Gondy, the Cardinal’s enemy ? ” exclaimed 
D’Artagnan. 

“ No ; but the King’s friend,” replied Aramis, “ the King’s 
friend, understand. Well, the point Avould be to seiwe the 
King; that is also the duty of a gentleman.” 

“ But the King is Avith Mazarin, my dear.” 

“ In fact, but not in mind ; in appearance, but not at heart ; 
and that is exactly the snare which is laid for the poor boy by 
his enemies.” 

“ Come, noAV, but this is civil war which you are honestly 
proposing to me^ my dear Aramis.” 

“ War for the King.” 

“ But the King will be at the head of the army, Avhere 
Mazarin is.” 

“ But his heart will be Avith the army, which Avill be com- 
manded by M. de Beaufort.” 

“ M. de Beaufort ! Why, he is at Vincennes.” 

“ Did I say M. de Beaufort ? ” inquired Aramis. “ M. de 
Beaufort or some other person — M. de Beaufort or the 
Prince.” 

“ But the Prince is going to the army, and is entirely 
deA^oted to the Cardinal.” 


92 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


‘‘I fear/’ said Aramis, ^^that there are some discussions 
between them just at this time. But if not the Prince, it will 
be M. de Gondy.” 

But M. de Gondy will soon be a cardinal ; they are now 
trying to get him the biretta.” 

AVell, are there not very warlike cardinals ? Behold ! 
There are around you four cardinals who, at the head of 
armies, equalled M. de Guébriant or M. de Gassion.” 

But a humpbacked general ! ” 

Under his cuirass his hump will not be seen. Besides, 
do you not remember that Alexander was lame and Hannibal 
had but one eye ? ” 

“ And do you perceive great advantages in this party ? ” 

I perceive the protection of powerful princes ! ” 

With the proscription of the Government.” 

“ Annulled by the parliaments and the opposition.” 

All this might happen as you say, if they could manage to 
separate the King from his mother.” 

“ Perhaps that may happen.” 

Never ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan, this time speaking from 
conviction. “ I appeal to you, Aramis, — to you, who know 
Anne of Austria as well as I do. Do you think that she can 
ever forget that her son constitutes her safety, her palladium, 
the pledge of her consideration, her fortune, and her life ? 
She must rather pass over with him to the party of the princes, 
abandoning Mazarin ; but you know, better than any one, that 
there are potent reasons why she should never forsake him.” 

Perhaps you are right,” said Aramis thoughtfully ; there- 
fore I will not enter into any engagement.” 

“ With them,” said D’Artagnan ; but with me ? ’’ 

With no one. I am a priest ; what have I to do with 
politics ? I do not read my breviary. I have a small circle 
of jolly, witty abbés, and of charming women ; and the more 
disturbed affairs become, the less noise my escapades will 
make. Everything, therefore, goes on marvellously well, with- 
out my being mixed up with it ; and decidedly, dear friend, I 
will have nothing to do with it.” 

Well, my dear Aramis,” said d’Artagnan, “upon my honour, 
your philosophy makes a convert of me, and I know not what' 
devil of an ambitious mania had seized me. I have a commis- 
sion which supports me. At the death of poor M. de Tréville, 
who is getting old, I may become captain. It is a very ex6el- 


THE TWO G ASP ARDS. 


lent marshal’s bâton for a Gascon cadet ; and I find that I am 
attached to the charms of a humble but daily bread. There- 
fore, instead of seeking for adventures I will accept the invita- 
tion of Porthos; I will go and hunt on his estate. You know 
that Porthos has estates ? ” 

Yes, indeed, I believe I do. Ten leagues of forest, marsh, 
and valley. He is lord of the hill and of the plain; and is 
at law with the Bishop of Noyon on account of some feudal 
rights.” 

Good ! ” said D’Artagnan to himself. That is just what 
I wanted to ascertain — Porthos is in Picardy.” Then he 
added aloud, And he has resumed his old name of Du 
Vallon ? ” 

To which he has annexed that of De Bracieux, an estate 
which, by my faith, was formerly a barony.” 

So that we shall see Porthos a baron ? ” 

I do not doubt it. The Baroness Porthos will be more 
especially admirable.” 

The two friends laughed heartily. 

And so you do not wish to join Mazarin ? ” said D’Arta- 
gnan as a final tentative. 

Nor you the princes ? ” 

^^No. Let us join no one, then, and continue friends ; let 
us be neither Cardinalists nor frondeurs.” 

“ Yes,” said Aramis, let us be Musketeers.” 

Even with the little collar,” exclaimed D’Artagnan. 

More especially with the little collar,” said Aramis, for 
it is that which constitutes the charm of it.” 

Good-by, then,” said D’Artagnan. 

I will not detain you, my dear,” replied Aramis, since I 
cannot give you a bed here ; and I cannot decently offer you 
half of Planchet’s shed.” 

Besides, I am scarcely three leagues from Paris ; the 
horses are refreshed, and in less than an hour I can reach 
home.” ■ 

And D’Artagnan poured himself out a last glass of wine. 

To our days of old,” said he. 

Yes,” responded Aramis ; “ unfortunately, it is time long 
since gone by ; fugit irreparahile tempus.’^ . 

Bah ! ” replied D’Artagnan, perhaps it will return. At 
all events, if you should want me, Bue Tiquetonne, Hôtel de 
la Chevrettï” 


94 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ And I at the Jesuit monastery — by the door from six in 
the morning to eight at night, and by the window from eight 
at night to six in the morning.” 

Good-by, my dear ! ” 

Oh ! I do not part with you thus. Let me attend you.” 

And he took up his sword and cloak. 

“ He wishes to be assured of my departure,” said D’Arta- 
gnan to himself. 

Aramis whistled for Bazin ; but Bazin was sleeping in the 
antechamber, over the remnants of the supper, and Aramis 
was obliged to pull him by the ear to awaken him. 

Bazin stretched his arms, rubbed his eyes, and endeavoured 
to go to sleep again. 

“ Come, come, master sleeper — quick — the ladder ! ” 

Why,” said Bazin, yawning as if he would dislocate his 
jaw, ^‘the rope ladder is still at the window.” 

“ The other — the gardener’s. Did you not perceive that 
M. d’Artagnan could scarcely mount ? He will, therefore, 
have much greater difficulty in descending.” 

D’Artagnan was just going to assure him that he could get 
down very well, when an Idea entered his head ; this idea 
made him hold his tongue. 

Bazin heaved a profound sigh as he went out to look for the 
ladder. A moment after, a strong, steady wooden ladder was 
fixed against the window. 

“ Come, now,” said D’Artagnan, that is what I call a means 
of communication ; even a woman could get up such a ladder 
as that.” 

A penetrating glance shot from Aramis’s eye, as if it wished 
to search the bottom of his friend’s heart ; but D’Artagnan 
sustained the scrutiny with an admirable look of innocence. 

Besides, at that moment he was putting his foot on the first 
step of the ladder and beginning to descend. 

In another moment he was on the ground. Bazin remained 
at the window. 

Kemain there,” cried Aramis ; I shall return directly.” 

They went toward the shed ; and at their approach Planchet 
came out, holding the two horses by the bridle. 

Excellent ! ” said Aramis. There is an active and vigi- 
1 int servant ; not like that lazy Bazin, who is really worth 
nothing since he has become a Churchman. Follow us, Plan- 
chet. We will talk till we reach the end of the village.” 



THEY SHOOK HANDS ONCE MORE. 




THE TWO GASPAHDFi. 


95 


In fact, the two friends conversed on indifferent subjects 
while they traversed the whole village. Then, when they 
reached the last houses — y 

“ Go, then, dear friend,’’ said Aramis ; follow your career. \ 
Fortune smiles on you ; let her not escape. Remember that 
she is a jilt, and treat her accordingly. As for me, I remain 
in my humility and my indolence. Adieu ! ” 

So it is perfectly decided,” said D’Artagnan ; what 1 
offered does not suit you ? ” 

“ On the contrary, it would suit me mighty well if I Avere 
like any other man,” replied Aramis ; “ but I repeat that I 
am, in truth, a combination of contradictions; what I hate 
to-day I may adore to-morrow ; and vice versa. You perceive 
that I could not engage like yourself, for example, who have • 
fixed principles.” 

You lie, you rogue,” said D’Artagnan to himself; ^‘you 
are, on the contrary, the only one who knows how to make 
choice of an object, and to proceed toward it in mysterious 
hidden ways.” 

Good-by, then, my dear,” continued Aramis, and thanks 
for your kind intentions ; and, more than all, for the pleasing 
recollections which your presence has awakened in me.” 

They embraced. Planchet was already on horseback, and 
D’Artagnan mounted in turn. Then they again shook hands, 
the horsemen spurred their horses and went off towards Paris. 

Aramis remained motionless in the middle of the street until 
they Avere out of sight. 

But after having proceeded about two hundred paces D’Ar- 
tagnan stopped short, jumped down, threw his bridle to Plan- 
chet, and took his pistols from the holsters and placed them 
in his belt. 

What is the matter, sir ? ” inquired Planchet, much 
frightened. 

Why, the matter is,” answered D’Artagnan, that, cunning 
as he is, it shall not be said that I am his dupe. Remain here. 
Do not stir. Only put yourself on the other side of the road 
auH AvaR for me.” 

With these Avords D’Artagnan jumped over the ditch by the 
ic‘ dside and ran across the plain, so as to skirt the village. 
He had noticed, between the house Avhich Madame de Longue- 
ville inhabited and the monastery, an open space closed only 
by a hedge. 


96 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Perhaps he would have had some difficulty, an hour before, 
ill finding this hedge ; but the moon had just risen, and 
.although it was occasionally hidden by clouds, he could see 
/sufficiently to find his way, even when it was obscured, 

D’Artagnan therefore gained the hedge, and concealed him- 
self behind it. Gn passing the house, before which the scene 
we have described took place, he remarked that there was again 
a light at the same window, and he was convinced that Aramis 
had not yet gone back, and that when he went back he would 
not be alone. 

In fact, in a few minutes he heard approaching steps and 
the sound of voices speaking low. 

At the end of the hedge the steps ceased. 

D’Artagnan put one knee to the ground, trying to conceal 
himself behind the thickest part of the hedge. 

Just at this moment, to his great astonishment, two men 
appeared; but his astonishment soon ceased, for he heard a 
soft and harmonious voice : one of these persons was a woman 
disguised as a man. 

Do^^ not 'dist^jess yourself, my dear Pene,” said the soft 
voice ; the same thing will not occur again. I have discov- 
ered a kind of subterranean passage leading under the street, 
and we shall only have to raise one of the flagstones which 
are before the door to open for you an entrance and an exit.” 

Oh ! ” said another voice, which D’Artagnan recognised as 
Aramis’s, I swear. Princess, that if your reputation were not 
at stake, and that I hazarded only my life ” — 

Yes, yes, I know that you are as brave and adventurous as 
any man in the world. But you do not belong to me alone ; 
you belong to our party. So be prudent, be cautious.” 

“ I am always obedient, madame,” answered Aramis, when 
I receive commands in such a sweet voice.” 

And he tenderly kissed her hand. 

‘‘ Ah ! ” exclaimed the cavalier with the soft voice. 

What ? ” demanded Aramis. 

‘‘ Do you not see that the wind has carried off my hat ? ” 

Aramis rushed after the fugitive felt. D’Artagnan took 
advantage of this circumstance to seek for a thinner pî.ice in 
the hedge, through which he might more clearly see th's m} s- 
terious cavalier. Just at this moment also, the moon, perhaps 
as curious as the officer, came from behind a cloud, and by as 
imprudent light D’Artagnan recognised tlie large blue eyes, 


M. PORTHOS DU VALLON DU BRACIUUX. 97 


the golden hair, and the noble head of the Duchesse de Longue- 
ville. 

Arainis returned laughing, with one hat on his head and 
another in his hand, and they both went toward the Jesuit 
monastery. 

Good ! ” said D’Artagnan, getting up and brushing his 
[ knee ; “ now I have you ; you are a frondeur and Madame de 
Longueville’s lover.” 


CHAPTEE XII. 

M. PORTHOS DU VALLOX DE BKACIEUX DE PIERREFONDS. 

Thanks to the information which he had gained from 
Aramis, D’Artagnan knew that Porthos, whose family name 
was Du Vallon, had added to it that of De Bracieux, from tlie 
name of his estate, and that on account of this estate of 
Bracieux he was at law with the Bishop of Xoyon. Therefore, 
he had to look for this estate in the vicinity of Xoyon ; that is, 
on the borders of the Isle of France and of Picardy. 

His route was quickly settled. He would go to Dammartin, 
whence two roads branched out : one leading to Soissons, the 
other to Compiègne. There he would gain some informa- 
tion about the De Bracieux estate, and, according to that 
information, he Avould either go straight forward or turn to 
the left. 

Planchet, who was not yet quite at his ease respecting the 
prank he had played, declared that he would follow D’Arta- 
gnan to the end of the world, whether he went straight forward 
or turned to the left ; only he entreated his master to set oft 
in the evening, being more likely to avoid detection in the 
dark. D’Artagnan then advised him to send his wife infor- 
mation of his safety, to relieve her anxiety ; but Planchet 
answered, with much sagacity, that he was quite certain that 
his wife would not die of anxiety from not knowing where 
he was ; while he, being perfectly aware of the glibness and 
laxity of her tongue, would inevitably die of anxiety if she 
did know it. 

These reasons seemed so cogent that D’Artagnan did not 
further press his recomm-en dation ; and about eight o’clock in 
the evening, just as the fog began to spread over the streets, 


98 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


he left the Hôtel de la Chevrette, and, followed by Planchet, 
issued forth from the capital by the Porte Saint Denis. 

By midnight the travellers were at Dammartin. It was too 
late to make any inquiries. The host of the Cy<jne de la 
Croix was in bed. D’Artagnan, therefore, deferred everything 
until the following day. 

Next morning he sent for the host. He was one of those 
crafty Normans who answer neither yes or no, and who alw::-^ 3 
think that they compromise themselves by giving a direct 
answer. D’Artagnan, therefore, merely understanding that he 
must go straight forward, again took the road on this equi v ooal 
information. At nine in the morning he was at Nanteuil, 
where he stopped to breakfast. Here the host was an honest, 
open-hôm-ted Picard, who, finding that Planchet was 
countryman, did not hesitate in giving the informatien 
required. The estate of De Bracieux was some leagues from 
Villers-C otterets. 

D'Artagnan knew Villers-Cotterets, which was at this period 
a royal residence, whither, on two or three occasions, iif had 
followed the Court. He therefore proceeded toward this town, 
and dismounted at his usual inn, the Dauphin d’or. The 
information here became most satisfactory : he learnt that the 
estate of De Bracieux was situated four leagues from the 
town, but that Porbhos must not be sought for there. Porthos 
had been having some disputes with the Bishop of Noyon 
concerning the estate of Pierrefonds, which bounded his own ; 
and, fatigued by all these legal disputes which he could not 
understand, he had, to terminate them, bought Pierrefonds ; 
so that he had added this new appellation to his other titles, 
and now styled himself Du Vallon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds, 
and was living on his new property. In default of any othei- 
title, Porthos was evidently aiming to be Marquis of Carabas. 

They were obliged again to wait till the morrow. The 
horses had travelled ten leagues during the day, and were 
tired. They might have taken others, it is true ; but they had 
to pass through a large forest, and Planchet, it may be remem- 
bered, did not like forests at night. 

There was another thing, also, which Planchet did not like : 
and that was, to set out fasting. So when he awoke D’Ar- 
tagnan found his breakfast ready, and as he could not complain 
of such an attention he placed himself at table. It is to be 
understood that Planchet, on resuming his former functions, 


M. POHTHOS DU VALLON DE BRACIEUX. 99 


had also resumed his former humility, and was not more 
ashamed of eating the remnants of D’Artagnan’s meals than 
Madame de Motte ville and Madame de Fargis were of eating 
those of Anne of Austria. 

They could not, therefore, set out until about eight o’clock. 
It was impossible to make any mistake ; they had only to fol- 
low the road that leads from Villers-Cotterets to Compiègne, 
aixd on leaving the forest to turn to the right. 

It was a beautiful spring morning; the birds were singing 
ill the tall trees, and the broad rays of the sun shot across the 
jlades, resembling curtains of gilded gauze. In other spots 
the light scarcely penetrated the thick leafy vaults, and the 
stems of the old oaks (up which the active squirrels were run- 
i;ing, frightened by the travellers) were plunged in^shad^w. 

rom the herbs, leaves, and flowers breathed forth a delicious 
morninr* perfume, gladdening the heart of man. D’Artagnan, 
'Ired of the foetid odors of Paris, thought to himself that any 
one bearing the names of three estates must be very happy in 
such a paradise. Then he shook his head, saying, “ If I were 
Porthos, and D’Artagnan came to make me the proposition 
hich I am going to make Porthos, I know very well the 
a/mwer l should give D’Artagnan.” 

As for Planchet he had no thoughts : he was digesting. 

At the extremity of the wood, D’Artagnan perceived the 
road indicated ; and at the end of the road, the towers of an 
enormous feudal castle. 

Oh, ho ! ” he murmured ; I should fancy that this castle 
belonged to the elder branch of the Orleans family. Has 
Porthos been dealing with the Due de Longueville ? ” 

Faith, sir,” said Planchet, ‘‘ here are lands in good order. 
T'‘ ^hey belong to M. Porthos, I must congratulate him.” 

Zounds! ” cried D’Artagnan; do not call him Porthos, or 
even Du Vallon. You must call him either De Bracieux or 
De Pierrefonds, otherwise you will make my embassy fail.” 

As they drew near the castle which had attracted their 
observation, D’Artagnan perceived that his friend could not 
reside there. The towers, although solid and apparently built 
only yesterday, were open, as if gutted ; it seemed as if some 
giant had riven them with a hatchet. 

Having reached the end of the road, D’Artagnan found 
that it commanded a view of a charming valley, at the bottom 
of which, and at the extremity of a pretty little lake, wer^ 


100 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Ü 

scattered a few humble cottages, some covered with tiles and 
others with thatch, and all seeming to acknowledge as their 
feudal superior a handsome chateau, built about the commence- 
ment of the reign of Henry IV., and surmounted by the seig- 
niorial weather-cocks. 

D’Artagnan did not now doubt that he saw the abode of 
Porthos. 

The road led in a straight line to this handsome chateau, 
which, compared with its ancestor, the Chateau de la Mon- 
tagne, was. like a fop in the Hue d’Enghien’s train, by the side j 
of a barbed knight of the times of Charles VII. H’Artagnan | 
put his horse to a trot, and followed the road, Planchet regu- i 
lating his pace by that of his master. ] 

At the end of ten minutes D’Artagnan found himself enter- j 
ing a beautiful poplar-lined avenue terminating in an iron \ 
gate, the spikes and transverse bars of which were gilded. In i 
the middle of this avenue they saw a sort of seigneur, dressed | 
in green and gold like the gate, and mounted on a stout < 
stallion. On his right and left were two valets, laced at every i 
seam ; and a considerable number of poor people were paying ! 
him the most respectful attention. 1 

Ah ! ” cried D’Artagnan, can this be the Seigneur du ! 
Vallon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds ? Mon Dieu! How he is 
shrivelled up since his name was Porthos ! ” i 

^Ht cannot be him, sir,” said Planchet, answering D’Ar- i 
tagnan’s thought. “ M. Porthos was nearly six feet, and this i 
man is scarcely five.” ' 

And yet,” said D’Artagnan, “ they are treating this 
gentleman with great respect.” 

At these words D’Artagnan hastened toward the large horse, 
the great man, and his valets. As he approached him, he fan- 
cied that he recognised the features of this personage. 

Oh, Lord, sir,” cried Planchet, who also thought that he 
recollected him, can it possibly be him ? ” 

At this exclamation the man on horseback gently and in a 
most majestic manner turned his head, and the two travellers 
could perceive the redoubtable Mousqueton with his great 
eyes shining in all their brightness, his rosy face, and his elo- 
quent smile. 

It really was Mousqueton — Mousqueton, fat as butter, over- 
flowing with health, and puffed out with good living — who, 
on seeing D’Artagnan, unlike that hypocrite Bazin, let him- 


1 


M. r ORTHOS DU VALLON DE BRACIEUX. 101 

self gently glide from his horse, and, hat in hand, went up to 
the ( du er, so that the homage of the assembled crowd was 
transferred to this new sun, which was eclipsing the former one. 

d’Art- -an ! \I. d’Artagnan !” cried Mousqueton from 
his enorniov. l ; he was actually perspiring with delight. 
“ M. d’Ai-f I ’h, what joy for my lord and master, M. 

du Yallo;. ‘ V de Pierrefonds ! ” 

Ah, . ' - ;up? . then, your master is here ?” 

Y> .v.e on his domains, sir!” 

But how splendid you are — how fat and flourishing you 
are grown ! ” continued P>’ Artagnan., thus commenting on the 
wondrous changes whiclv good fortune had wrought on the 
ancient starveling. 

Ah, yes, God be thanked, sir/' said .Merisqueton, am 
pretty well.” 

But have you nothing to say to your old friend Plan- 
chet ? ” 

To my friend Planchet ! And i it -you, Planchet ? ” ex- 
claimed Mousqueton, with open ariiis and eyes tilled vith 
tears. 

Myself,” answered the prudent Planchet ; bid T vished 
to be certain that you were not become proud.” 

Proud to mine ancient friend ? Never, Planchet Î You 
could not think so, or — you do not know Mousquetom” * 

Well and good ! ” returned Planchet, dismounting, and in 
turn opening his arms to Mousqueton. You are not like 
that cur, Bazin, who left me two hours under a shed, without 
even pretending to remember me.” 

And Planchet and Mousqueton embraced with an affection 
that touched all the spectators, and made them believe that 
Planchet was some nobleman in disguise, so highly did they 
estimate Mousqueton’s exalted position. 

And now, sir,” said Mousqueton, when he had released 
himself from the embrace of Planchet, who had vainly 
endeavoured to join his hands behind his friend’s back, — 
^^and now, sir, permit me to leave you, for I do not wish 
my master to learn the news of your arrival from any one but 
myself. He would never pardon me if I allowed it to precede 
me.” 

My dear friend, therefore,” said D’Artagnan, not giving 
Porthos either his ancient or his modern name, ‘‘ has not for- 
gotten me ? ” 


102 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. ’ 

‘‘Forgotten you!” exclaimed Moiisqnclon ; “ ihere nota . 
day, sir, in which we have not expected to hear t]«at you were ; 
named a marshal, either in the place of M. de Gassion or of < 
M. de Bassompierre.” 

D’Artagnan gave one of those melancloly smiles whicli . 
had outlived, in the depths of his heart, the false and fleeting ; 
hopes of his youthful days. 

“ And you, clowns,” coiitinued Mousqueton, “ remain near 
M. le Comte d’Artagnan, and i)ay him every respect, while I 
apprise monseigneur of his arrival.” 

And mounting his robust steed by the assistance of two 
charitable souls, while the more nimble Flanchet mounted his 
without assistance. Mousqueton took , a gentle gallop on the 
turf, evidently thinking more of the ease of his own back than 
of his horse’s legs. 

“ Ah, this is a good beginning,” said D’Artagnan. “ No 
mysteries, no cloaks, no politics here ; but, in their stead, 
hearty laughter and tears of joy. I see nothing but faces an 
ell wide. Eeally, nfr‘i're herself appears to be welcoming us; 
and instead of leaves ami flowers, one might almost fancy that 
the trees are covered with green and red ribands.” 

“ And I,” said Flanchet, “ think that I perceive the most 
delectable odour of roast meat — I fancy that I see the scul- 
lions ranged in order to mark our approach. Ah, sir, what a 
cook must M. de Fierrefonds liaA^e — he who loved good living 
so much when he was called M. Forthos.” 

“ Halt there ! ” said D’Artagnan. “ You alarm me ! If the 
reality equals the appearance, I am lost. A man who is so 
happy will never forsake his enjoyments ; and I shall fail here, 
as ,I did with Aramis.” 


CHAFTEE XIII. 

HOW d’artagnan discovered, during his visit to por- 

THOS, THAT FORTUNE DOES NOT ENSURE HAPPINESS. 

D’Artagnan passed through the gate, and found himself 
opposite the chateau ; he had just dismounted, when a gigantic 
personage appeared on the steps. Let us do D’Artagnan the 
justice to say that apart from all feeling of egotism his heart 
beat with delight on seeing that lofty and martial figure, which 
reminded him of a brave and excellent man. 


D'AHTAGNAN'S VISIT TO FORTH OS. 


103 


He ran to Porthos and threw himself into his arnis. The 
whole establishment of lacqueys, ranged in a circle at a respect- 
ful distance, looked on with humble curiosity ; while Mousque- 
ton, in front, was wiping his eyes, for the poor fellow had 
been crying with joy ever since he first saw D’Artagnan and 
Planchet. 

Porthos took his friend by the arm. 

‘‘Ah! what joy again to see you, dear D’Artagnan!” he 
exclaimed, in a voice which, from a baritone, had become bass ; 
“ so you have not forgotten me ?” 

“ Forget you ! Oh, dear Du Vallon, can we forget the 
bright days of our youth and old devoted friends, and the 
perils we have confronted together? Eeally, on seeing you 
every instant of our former friendship recurs to my memory.” 

“ Yes, yes,” said Porthos, endeavouiing to restore that 
coquettish twist to his mustache which it had lost in his 
retirement, “ yes, we did perform some fine actions in our 
time, and gave but a ruffled skein to that poor Cardinal to 
unravel.” 

And he heaved a sigh. D’Artagnan looked at him. 

“ At any rate,” continued Porthos, in a languishing tone, 
“ you are most welcome, my dear friend. You will assist me 
to recover my happiness. To-morrow we will hunt the hare 
in my plains, which are superb, or the roebuck in my woods, 
which are magnificent. I have four of the swiftest greyhounds 
in the province, and a pack unequalled for twenty miles round.” 

And Porthos heaved another sigh. 

“ Oh, ho,” thought D’Artagnan to himself, “ is my gay lad 
less happy than he seems ? ” 

Then he said aloud : “ But first you must introduce me to 
Madame du Vallon, for I recollect a certain kind letter of 
invitation which you sent me, and at the bottom of which she 
was so obliging as to add a few lines.” 

Porthos gave a third sigh. 

“I lost Madame du Vallon two years ago,” said he, “and 
you see me yet in affliction. It was for that 1 quitted my 
Chateau du Vallon, near Corbeil, to come and live on my 
estate of De Bracieux, which induced me to make this pur- 
chase. Poor Madame du Vallon ! She was not a woman of 
very even temper,” continued Porthos, making a grimace of 
regret, but she at last became accustomed to my ways, and 
would give in to my small wishes.’’ 


104 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ Therefore you are rich and free ? ” said D’Artagnan. 

Alas ! ” replied Porthos, I am a widower, and have an 
income of forty thousand livres. Come, let us breakfast. AVill 
you ? ” 

‘‘ Indeed I will,’’ said D’Artagnan. The morning air has 
given me an appetite.” 

“ Yes,” said Porthos, my air is excellent.” 

They entered the chateau. There was nothing but gilding 
from top to bottom ; the cornices were gilt, the mouldings were 
gilt, the wood of the easy-chairs was gilt. 

There was a table ready covered. 

You here see,” said Porthos, my usual breakfast.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried D’Artagnan, I compliment you ! The King 
has not so good a one.” 

“ True,” said Porthos ; I have heard that M. de Mazarin feeds 
him bi;t badly. Taste this cutlet, my dear D’Artagnan ; it is 
of my own mutton.” 

You have very tender mutton,” said D’Artagnan, and I 
congratulate you upon it.” 

Yes, they are fed on my pastures, which are excellent.” 

Give me another.” 

No, take a piece of this hare, which I shot yesterday in 
one of my warrens.” 

“ What a flavour ! ” cried D’Artagnan ; do you feed your 
hares on nothing but wild thyme ?” 

“ And what do you think of my wine ? ” inquired Porthos. . 

It is agreeable, is it not ? ” 

It is charming.” 

And yet it is of home growth.” 

Really ! ” 

Yes, a little store to the south yonder, on that hill of mine, 
— it produces about twenty hogsheads.” 

‘‘ But it is a regular vintage ! ” 

Porthos sighed for the fifth time. D’Artagnan had counted 
his sighs. 

But, my dear friend,” said he, curious to solve this prob- 
lem, it seems as if something distressed you ; perhaps you | 
are not well — Is your health ” — 

Excellent, my dear fellow — better than ever. I could 
kill an ox with a blow of my fist.” 

“ Then some family distress or other ” — 

^‘Family ! Happily, I have but myself.” ' 

i 


D'A R TA GNA N 'S VISIl^ TO POU THOS. 


105 


“ What, then, is it that makes you sigh ? 

My dear,” said Porthos, I will be frank with you : I am 
not happy.” 

“Yon not happy, Porthos ! You who have a chateau, past- 
iures, mountains, woods — yon who have an income of forty 
Ithousand livres a year — you are not happy!” 

“ My dear, I have all this, but I am solitary in the midst 
|of it.” 

i “ Ah ! I understand. You are surrounded by peasants, whom 
|you cannot visit without lessening your own consequence.” 

,1 Porthos slightly changed color and swallowed an enormous 

I glass of his small wine. 

“ No,” said he, “ on the contrary. Imagine to yourself a set 
of country gentlemen, all of whom have some title or other, 
land who pretend to spring from Pharamond and Charlemagne, 
jor, at the very least, from Hugh Capet. At the beginning, as 
li I was the last arrival, I had to make the first advances. I 
j did make them ; but you know, my dear, that Madame du 
I Vallon”— 

li Porthos, on uttering these words, appeared to have some 
(difficulty in swallowing. 

“ The nobility of Madame du Vallon’s ancestry,” continued 
Porthos, “ was rather doubtful. I do not think I gave you any 
information that you did not know before, D’Artagnan, when 
I tell you that her first husband was an attorney. They con- 
sidered that disgusting. They said disgusting, — that was the 
term, — and you can comprehend that it was a word which 
might make one kill thirty thousand men. I did kill two ; 
and although that made the others hold their tongues, it did 
not make them my friends. So that I have no society. I live 
alone ; I am weary of my life ; and my mind preys upon 
I itself.” 

D’Artagnan smiled; he saw the defect in the armour, and 
prepared his blow. 

“ But, after all, you are yourself their equal, and your wife 
cannot degrade you.” 

“Yes, but you understand, not being of that historical 
noblesse like the Coucy, who were contented to remain sires, 
I and the Bohans, who would not be made dukes, all these 
j gentry, who are either viscounts or counts, take precedence of 
me at church, at functions, everywhere in the ceremonies, and 
I can say nothing. Ah ! if I were only ” — 


106 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


A baron — is it not so?^’ said D’Artagnan, finishing the ‘ 
sentence for his friend. , ; 

Ah ! ” exclaimed Porthos, whose features lighted up, ah, ‘ 
if I were a baron !” ' , 

Good ! ” thought D’Artagnan ; I shall succeed here. Well, ; 
then, my dear friend,” he said aloud, the title you- wish for I | 
come to bring you to-day.” ] 

Forth os gave a jump that shook the whole room; three or ! 
four bottles lost their balance and fell to the ground, where 
they were broken. Mousqueton ran in at the noise ; and in 
the perspective, Planchet was seen with his mouth full and a 
napkin in his hand. ; 

“ Did monseigneur call ? ” inquired Mousqueton. i 

Porthos made him a sign to pick up the broken bottles. ^ 

I am delighted to see,” said D’Artagnan, “ that you still , 
have that good fellow with you.” • 

^^He is my steward,” said Porthos. Then elevating his 
voice : “ He has done pretty well, the rascal, that is plain , 
enough; but,” in a lower key, ^^he is attached to me, and | 
nothing would induce him to leave me.” \ 

And he calls him ‘ monseigneur,’ ” thought D’Artagnan. ^ 
Leave the room, Mouston,” said Porthos. ; 

You say Mouston ? I suppose for sake of abbreviation. 1 
Mousqueton was too long to pronounce.” j 

“ Yes,” replied Porthos ; “ and, besides, you might smell the ^ 
quartermaster a league off. But we were talking of business ■ 
when that rascal came in,” continued Porthos. < 

“ Yes,” said D’Artagnan ; ‘‘ yet we had better defer our con- < 
versation. Your people might suspect something, and there 
may also chance to be spies in this country. You understand, 
Porthos, that affairs of the very greatest consequence are at 
stake.” 

‘^Zounds!” cried Porthos. “Very well, then, to promote 
digestion let us take a turn in my park.” 

“Willingly.” 

And as both had taken enough of breakfast, they began to 
make the tour of a splendid garden. Alleys of chestnuts and 
linden trees enclosed a space of about thirty acres ; the end of 
each avenue was thick with copse-wood and shrubs, in which 
the rabbits were seen running about, vanishing among the 
beech trees and sporting in the long grass. 

“Faith!” said D’Artagnan, “the park corresponds with 


D'ARTAGNAN^S VISIT TO PORTHOS. lO'? 

evérytliing else ; and if there are as many fish in your lake 
as there are rabbits in yonr warrens, yon are a happy man, my 
dear Porthos, provided, that you have still the same love of 
shooting, and have also acquired that of fishing.” 

“ My friend,” said Porthos, ‘‘ I leave the fishing to Mousque- 
ton. It is a vulgar amusement. But I sometimes shoot ; that 
is, when I am tired of doing nothing I seat myself on one of 
these marble benches, I send for my gun, and for Gredinet, my 
favourite dog, and I shoot rabbits.” 

‘‘ Well, that is very amusing,” said D’Artagnan. 

^Wes,” replied Porthos, with a sigh, “it is very amusing.” 

D’Artagnan did not count the sighs any longer. 

“ Then,” continued Porthos, “ Gredinet goes for them, and 
carries them himself to the cook; he is trained to that.” 

“Ah ! the charming little creature ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan. 

“ But,” resumed Porthos, “ let us leave Gredinet, whom I 
will give you if you ’d like him, for I begin to be tired of 
him, and let us return to our business.” 

“ Willingly,” said D’Artagnan. “ Only I warn you, my 
dear friend, that you may not say that I have deceived you, 
that it will be necessary for you entirely to change your mode 
of life.” 

“ And how is that ? ” 

“ To resume your armour, to gird on your sword, to run after 
adventures, to leave, as of old, some portion of your skin on ^ 
the road; in fine, you know our old ways.” 

“ Ah, the devil ! ” cried Porthos. 

“ Yes, I understand. You are spoiled for action, my dear 
friend. You have run to stomach, and the wrist has not now 
that elasticity of which the Cardinal’s Guards had such severe 
proofs.” 

“ Ah, the wrist is yet good, I assure you,” replied Porthos, 
stretching out a hand as big as a shoulder of mutton. 

“ So much the better.” 

“ Then we are to make war — are we ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, to be sure.” 

“ And against whom ? ” 

“ Have you been following the politics of the day, my 
friend ? 

“I ? Not in the least.” 

“ Then are you for Mazarin or for the princes ? ” 

“I ? I am not for any one.” 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


;|.^08 


That is to say, that you are for us. So much the better, 
Porthos ; it is an excellent position to profit by circumstances. 
Well, then, my dear, I will tell you that I am come from the 
Cardinal.’’ ! 

This word had an effect upon Porthos similar to what it ■ 
would have had in the year 1640, and if the matter had con- ! 
cerned the true Cardinal. ; 

Oh, ho ! ” cried he ; and what does his Eminence want 
with me ? ” 

His Eminence wishes to have you in his service.” 

And who mentioned me to him ? ” 

“ Rochefort. Do you remember him ? ” 

“ Yes, by Jove ! He who gave us so much trouble, and who j 
made us travel about so much — whom you wounded three ! 
times, as he well deserved.” 

“ But are you not aware that he is become our friend ? ” 
inquired D’Artagnan. 

“ No, I did not know it. So he does not bear malice ? ” 

‘ Wou are mistaken, Porthos,” said D’Artagnan ; I do not.” 

Porthos did not clearly comprehend this distinction ; but it 
may be remembered that comprehension was not his strong 
point. 

‘‘ You say, therefore,” he continued, that it was the Comte 
de Rochefort who spoke to the Cardinal about me ? ” 

‘‘Yes ; and then the Queen.” 

* “ What ! The Queen ? ” 

“ To inspire us with confidence, she has placed in Mazarin’s 
hand that famous diamond, you know, which I sold to M. des 
Essarts, and which, somehow, came again into her possession.” 

“ But it seems to me,” observed Porthos, with his plain good 
sense, “ that she would have done better to give it back to you.” 

“ That is also my opinion,” said D’Artagnan ; “ but what 
would you have ? Kings and queens have often singular fancies ; 
and, after all, as they are the persons who hold riches and 
honours, and who dispense wealth and titles, we are devoted to 
them.” 

“ Yes, we are devoted to them,” said Porthos ; “ therefore, 
you are devoted at this present time” — 

“ To the King, the Queen, and the Cardinal ; and more than 
that, I have answered for your devotion.” 

“ And you say that you have made certain conditions for 
me ?” 


D'ARTAGNAN'S VISIT TO PORTHOS. 109 


“ Magnificent, iny dear, magnificent ! In the first place, you 
have money, have you not ? An income of forty thousand 
livres, as you told me.’’ 

Porthos began to be a little suspicious. 

Ah, my friend,” said he, one has never too much money. 
Madame du Vallon left an involved inheritance. I am no great 
scholar, so that I live rather from day to day.” 

‘‘ He fears that I am come to borrow money of him,” thought 
D’Artagnan. Ah, my friend,” said he aloud, if you are in 
difficulties, so much the better.” 

Why so much the better ? ” demanded Porthos. 

Because his Eminence will give all you want — land, money, 
and titles.” 

^‘Ah, ah, ah ! ” cried Porthos, opening his eye at the last 
word. 

‘‘Under the other Cardinal,” continued D’Artagnan, “we 
did not know how to take advantage of fortune. That was 
really the case — I do not say as to you, for you had your 
forty thousand livres income in perspective, and appeared to 
me to be the happiest man on earth.” 

Porthos sighed. 

“ However, in spite of your forty thousand livres income,” 
continued D’Artagnan, “ or, rather, perhaps on account of your 
forty thousand livres income, it seems to me that a coronet 
would look very well on your carriage, eh ? ” 

“ Why — yes,” said Porthos. 

“ Well then, win it, iny dear ; it is at the end of your sword. 
We shall not interfere with each other : your object is a title ; 
mine is money. If I can win enough to enable me to rebuild 
Artagnan, which my ancestors, impoverished by the Crusades, 
have ever since allowed to fall into ruin, and to purchase 
about thirty acres around it, it is all I require. I will then 
retire and die in peace.” 

“ And I,” said Porthos, “ wish to be a baron.” 

“ You shall be one.” 

“ And have you not thought of our friends ? ” demanded 
Porthos. 

“Yes, I have seen Aramis.” 

“ Well, and what does he want ? — to be a bishop ? ” 

“ Aramis,” said D’Artagnan, not wishing to destroy his 
friend’s illusions, — “ Aramis, you must understand, my dear, 
is become a monk and a Jesuit, and lives like a bear. He 


110 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


renounces everything, and only thinks of his salvation. My 
offers could bring him to no decision.’’ 

So much the worse,” said Porthos, “ for he was a man of 
talent. And Athos ? ” 

I have not yet seen him ; but on quitting you I shall go 
and visit him. Do you know where I can find him ? ” 

Near Blois, on a small estate which he inherited from ; 
some relation.” j 

And what name does it bear ?” j 

Bragelonne. Do you understand, my dear, what Athos, j 
who was as noble as the Emperor, and who inherits an estate | 
carrying with it the title of count, — what can he do with all : 
those countships — Count de la Fere, Count de Bragelonne ? ” j 
And with all that he has no children,” said D’Artagnan. i 
Oh ! ” said Porthos, “ I have heard of a young man whom I 
he had adopted, and who, it is said, much resembles him in i 
countenance.” 

“ Athos ! our Athos ! who was as virtuous as Scipio. Do you 
ever see him ? ” 

‘‘No.” 

“ Well, I will go to-morrow and carry him some news about 
you. Between ourselves, I fear that his love of wine may have 
much aged and degraded him.” 

“ Yes,” said Porthos, “ it ’s true he drank very hard.” 

“ Then he was also the eldest of us,” said D’Artagnan. 

“ By a few years only,” replied Porthos ; “ but his grave 
air caused him to look much older.” 

“ Yes, that’s true. Therefore, if we can get Athos, so much 
the better ; if not, why we must do without him. We two 
alone are worth a dozen.” 

“ Yes,” said Porthos, smiling at the recollections of his 
ancient exploits; “but we four should be worth thirty-six; 
more especially as you say the affair is rather difficult.” 

“ Difficult for recruits, but not for us.” 

“ Will it be of long continuance ? ” 

“ Why, yes ; it may last three or four years.” 

“ Shall we have much fighting ? ” 

“ I hope so.” 

“ So much the better, after all, — so much the better ! ” ex- 
claimed Porthos. “ You can have no idea how my bones snap 
and crack since I have been here. Sometimes on a Sunday, 
when I come from Mass, I ride over the meadows and fields of 


FORTH os GREATLY DISSATFSFIED. 


Ill 


my neighbours, to pick up some good little quarrel, — for I per- 
ceive that 1 want it, — but I find nothing, my dear. Whether 
they respect or fear me, which last is perhaps the most prob- 
able, they let me trample down their lucerne with my dogs, 
ride full gallop over every one, and I return quite tired of 
doing nothing. That is the truth. But tell me, is it easier 
to fight in Paris now ? 

“ As for that, my dear, it is quite delightful. No more 
edicts, no Cardinal’s Guards, and no more Jussacs, or other 
police spies. Mon Dieu ! do you see under a lamp in a tavern, 
in short anywhere, ‘Are you for Mazarin ? ’ ‘ Are you a fron- 
deur ? ’ swords are drawn and all is settled. M. de Guise killed 
M. de Coligny openly in the Palace Boy ale, and no notice was 
taken of it.” 

“ Ah, that is right ! ” said Porthos. 

“ And then in a short time,” continued D’Artagnan, “ we 
shall have pitched battles, cannon, and conflagrations ; there 
will be great variety.” 

“ Then I am determined.” 

“ I have your word, then ? ” 

“Yes, it is settled. I will thrust and cut — for Mazarin. 
But”— 

“ But what ? ” 

“ He will make me a baron ? ” 

“ Ah, pardieu, yes,” said D’Artagnan ; “ that is agreed upon 
as a preliminary. I told you so, and I repeat it — I will answer 
for your barony.” 

On the faith of this promise, Porthos, who had never doubted 
his friend’s word, returned with him to the chateau. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT ALTHOUGH PORTHOS WAS 
GREATLY DISSATISFIED WITH HIS LOT, MOUSQUETON WAS 
VERY WELL CONTENTED WITH HIS. 

As he returned to the chateau, and while Porthos was dream- 
ing about his barony, D’Artagnan was reflecting on poor human 
nature, always discontented with what it possesses, and ever 
desirous of obtaining what it has not. In Porthos’s place, 
D’Artagnan would have coiisidcrcil himself the happiest man 


112 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


on earth. And to make Porthos happy, he wanted — what ? 
hive letters to place before all his names, and a coronet to be 
painted on the panels of his carriage. 

So I shall pass all my life,’’ said D’Artagnan to himself, 

in looking on every side without ever seeing the face of a man 
who was completely happy.” 

He was just making this philosophical reflexion when? 
Providence seemed as if it wished to give him the lie. At the 
moment that Porthos left him to give some orders to his cook, 
he saw Mousqueton coming toward him. The worthy fellow’s 
face, except for a slight shade of distress, whj^h, like a summer 
cloud, threw a gauze rather than a veil over it, was a picture of 
happiness. 

There is what I was looking for,” said D’Artagnan to him- 
self ; but, alas ! the poor fellow does not know why I am 
come.” 

Mousqueton kept aloof, but D’Artagnan seated himself on a 
bench and beckoned him to approach. 

Sir,” said Mousqueton, taking advantage of this permission^ 

I have a favour to ask of you.” 

Speak, my friend,” said D’Artagnan. 

‘‘ I dare not, sir. I fear lest you should think that pros- 
perity has spoiled me.” 

You are happy, then, my friend ? ” said D’Artagnan. 

As happy as it is possible to be ; and yet you may make 
me happier still.” 

Speak, then, and if it depends on me it is done.” 

Oh, sir, it wholly depends on you.” 

“ I am listening.” 

Sir, the favour I ask is, that you would no more call me 
Mousqueton, but Mouston. Since I have had the honour of 
being monseigneur’s steward, I have taken this last name, 
which is more noble, and makes me more respected by my 
inferiors. You know yourself, sir, how necessary subordina- 
tion is among lacqueys.” 

D’Artagnan smiled. Porthos was elongating his names : 
Mousqueton was abbreviating his. 

^MVell, sir?” said Mousqueton, trembling with anxiety. 

“ Well, then, yes. My dear Mouston,” continued D’Arta- 
gnan, make yourself perfectly easy. I will not forget your 
request; and if it will give you any pleasure, I will not 
address you as a lacquey any more.” 


PORTHOS GREATLY DISSATISFIED. 


113 


Oh ! ’’ exclaimed Mousqueton, colouring with pleasure, if 
you would do me such an honour, sir, I shall be grateful all 
my life. But perhaps it would be too much to ask ? ” 

Alas ! ’’ said D’ Artagnan to himself, it is but very little 
in exchange for the unexpected miseries which I bring upon 
this poor devil, who has received me so kindly.’’ 

“ And will you remain long with us ? ” inquired Mousqueton, 
whose countenance, restored to complete serenity, glowed like 
I a peony. 

I leave you to-morrow, my friend,” answered D’Artagnan. 

Ah, sir,” cried Mousqueton, “ you only came, then, to 
make us regret your visit.” 

I fear so,” said D’Artagnan, but in so low a tone that 
Mousqueton, who was just making his parting bow, could not 
hear him. 

A species of remorse penetrated D’Artagnan’s heart, indu- 
rated as it was. He did not regret engaging P'orthos in a 
course where his life and fortune would be staked, for Porthos 
willingly hazarded all this for his baronial title, which he had 
for fifteen years been anxious to acquire. But Mousqueton, 
who desired nothing but to be called Mouston, — was it not 
very cruel to snatch him from his delicious life, from his gran- 
ary of abundance ? This idea was completely absorbing his 
thoughts when Porthos reappeared. 

To dinner ! ” said Porthos. 

To dinner ? ” responded D’Artagnan. Why, what time 
is it ? ” 

Well, my dear, it is past one o’clock.” 

Your abode is a paradise, Porthos. It makes one forget 
time. I follow you ; but I am not hungry.” 

“ Come along. If we cannot always eat, at any rate we can 
always drink. That is one of poor Athos’s maxims the truth of 
which I have found out since I have become wearied of doing 
nothing.” 

D’Artagnan, kept very temperate by his Gascon disposition, 
did not appear so much conyinced of the truth of Athos’s 
axiom as his friend. He did what he could, however, to keep 
himself upon an equality with his host. 

Yet, while he watched Porthos eating and while he drank as 
much as he could, the recollection of Mousqueton would in- 
trude on D’Artagnan’s mind ; and the more so as Mousqueton, 
without actually waiting on them, — for that would have been 


114 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


i 


derogatory to his new dignity, — was oceasionally seen at | 
the door, betraying his gratitude to D’Artagnan by the age; 
and quality of the wines which he caused to be served, j 
Therefore when, at the dessert, on a sign from D’Artagnan, ? 
Porthos had dismissed his servants and the two friends found 
themselves alone — ; 

Porthos,’’ said D’Artagnan, “ who will accompany you in ! 
your campaigns ? ” 

“ Why, Houston, to be sure,” answered Porthos, quite natu- \ 
rally. 

This was a severe blow for D’Artagnan, who already, in 
imagination, saw the kindly smiles of the steward changed to 
melancholy grimaces. 

And yet, my dear,” said D’Artagnan, Houston is no 
longer in his first youth. Besides, he is grown enormously 
fat, and has probably lost the habit of active service.” 

‘‘ 1 know that,” answered Porthos, “ but I am accustomed to 
him ; and, besides, he would not like to leave me ; he loves me , 
too much for that.” 

“ Oh, blind self-love ! ” thought D’Artagnan. 

‘‘ Besides, you yourself,” continued Porthos, “ have you not 
still the same lacquey with you — that brave and good, that 
intelligent — what do you call him ? ” 

Planchet — yes, I have found him again. But he is no 
longer a lacquey.” 

What is he, then ? ” 

“ WTiy, with the sixteen hundred livres that he gained, you 
know, at the siege of La Bochelle, by carrying that letter to 
Lord de Winter, he has opened a small shop in the Rue des 
Lombards, and he is a pastry-cook.” 

Ah, he is a pastry-cook in the Rue des Lombards ? But 
how is it that he is with you now ? ” 

He has played some prank,” answered D’Artagnan, and 
is afraid of being called to account for it.” 

And the Husketeer told his friend how he had found Plan- 
chet again. 

Well, well, ” continued Porthos, who would have foretold, 
my dear, that one day Planchet would save Rochefort, and that 
you would conceal him for it ? ” 

I should not have believed him. But what would you have ? 
Events change men.” 

Nothing more true,” said Porthos. ^^But what does not 


pour 110 s GREATLY DISSATISFIED. 


115 




change, or, rather, what changes for the better, is wine. Taste 
this ; it is Spanish, or that quality which our friend Athos 
much esteemed — it is Xeres.” 

At this moment the steward came in to consult his master 
! on the bill of fare for the next day, and also respecting a pro- 
posed hunting-party. 

Tell me, Mouston,’’ said Porthos, “ are my arms in a good 
state ? 

D’Artagnan began beating the time under the table to con- 
ceal his confusion. 

Your arms, monseigneur ? ” said Houston. What arms ? ’’ 

Why, my armour, to be sure.” 

What armour ? ” 

My war armour.” 

Why, yes, monseigneur, — at least, I think so.” 

“ You will ascertain to-morrow whether it to be so, and you 
will have it polished up should it be necessary. Which is my 
best race-horse ? ” 

^Wulcan.” 

And which the toughest ? ” 

Bayard.” 

And which horse do you prefer ? ” 

I prefer Bustaud, monseigneur ; he is a good beast, to 
whom I am thoroughly accustomed.” 

He is strong, is he not ? ” 

“ Norman, crossed with Mecklenburg. He would go from 
morning till night.” 

“ That will just do. You will get these three horses into 
good condition ; you will furbish, or cause to be furbished up, 
my armour; and, moreover, pistols and a hunting-knife for 
yourself.” 

We are going to travel, then, monseigneur?” said Mous- 
queton, beginning to be somewhat disturbed. 

D’Artagnan, who had as yet only drummed some indetermi- 
nate measures, here beat a regular march. 

Better than that, Houston,” replied Porthos. ^ 

“ We are going on an expedition, I suppose, sir ? ” said the 
steward, whose roses began to fade into lilies. 

“ We are going to resume service, Mouston,” replied Porthos, 
vainly endeavouring to make his mustache regain the martial 
curl that it had lost. 

These words were scarcely uttered, before Mousqueton was 


116 


TWPJNTY YEARS AFTER. 


seized with, a fit of trembling that actually shook his mottled 
cheeks. He cast an indescribable glance of tender reproach at 
D’Artagnan, which that officer could not support without feel- 
ing himself much affected ; then he staggered back, and in a 
suffocating voice — 

Service ! ” cried he ; service in the King’s army ? ” 

“ Yes and no. We are about to take the field again to seek 
for all sorts of adventures, and, in short, to resume the life of 
olden times.” 

Those last words fell like a thunderbolt on Mousqueton’s 
ears. It was those terrible times of old which made the present 
so sweet. 

“ Oh, my God ! what do I hear ? ” exclaimed Mousqueton, 
casting even a more supplicating glance than the former at 
D’Artagnan. 

“ What would you have, my poor Houston ? ” demanded 
H’ Artagnan. Fate ” — 

In spite of the care that D’Artagnan had taken to address 
him respectfully, and to give his name that brevity which 
he aspired to. Mousqueton did not feel the blow the less 
severely ; and it was so terrible that he left the room completely 
overcome, and forgot even to shut the door. 

Our good Mousqueton ! He could not contain himself for 
joy,” said Porthos, in the exact tone we may fancy Hon Quixote 
to have told Sancho to saddle his ass for his last campaign. 

The two friends, being now alone, began to talk of the future, 
and to build a thousand castles in Spain. Mousqueton’s 
excellent wine made them see most brilliant prospects — to 
H’Artagnan of double and single pistoles ; and to Porthos, the 
blue riband and the ducal mantle. The fact is that they were 
asleep at the table when a servant came to get them to go to bed. 

Nevertheless, the next day Mousqueton was a little comforted 
by H’Artagnan, who told him that the war would probably be 
at Paris, within reach of the Chateau Hu Vallon, which was 
near Corbeil ; or of He Bracieux, which was near Melun ; or of 
Pierrefoj;ids, which was between Compiegne and Villers-Cotte- 
rets. 

‘‘ But I fancy that in old times ” — said Mousqueton 
timidly. 

Oh,” said H’Artagnan, they do not now make war as they 
did in old times. To-day they are diplomatic affairs. Ask 
Planchet ^about it.” 


PO RT nos GREATLY DISSATISFIED. 


117 


Mousq^reioti wént for information to his old friend, who con- 
firmed all that l^Artagnan had said. Only in this war,” he 
added, “ the prisoners run the risk of being hanged.” 

“ Zoiiiids ! ” cried Mousqueton; “ I think I should much pre- 
fer the siege of La Eochelle.” 

Porthos, a ‘’ter having made his guest kill a roebuck, and 
after l. iving led him from his woods to his mountain and 
from his mountain to his fish ponds, — after having shown 
him his greyhounds, his pack, Gredinet, and all he possessed, 
and having given him three more sumptuous repasts, — he asked 
for definite instructions from D’Artagnan, who was obliged to 
go on his way. 

“ Observe, my dear friend,” said the ambassador ; “ I Inust 
have four days to go from here to Blois, one to remain there, 
and three or four to return to Paris. Set off, therefore, in a 
week with your equipment. You will go to the Eue Tique- 
tonne, the Hôtel de la Chevrette, and there await my return.” 

“ That is settled,” said Porthos. 

“Now, I am going on a fruitless expedition to Athos. But 
although I expect to find him become perfectly inefficient, some 
consideration must be paid to our friends.” 

“ If I were to go with you,” said Porthos, “ it might amuse 
me.” 

“ Possibly,” replied D’Artagnan, “ and me also ; but then 
you would not have time for your preparations.” 

“ That is true,” said Porthos. “ Go, then, and with good 
courage. As for me, I am full of ardour.” 

“ Capital ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

And they separated on the boundaries of the Pierrefonds 
estate, to the extreme limits of which Porthos wished to con- 
duct his friend. 

“ At least,” said D’Artagnan, taking his way toward Villers- 
Cotterets, — “ at least I shall not be alone. That devil of a 
fellow, Porthos, is still in magnificent vigor. If Athos comes 
we shall be three, to laugh at that Jittle monkish lover, Aramis.” 

At Villers-Cotterets he wrote to the Cardinal : 

“ Monsignor : I have already one to offer your Eminence, and 
he is worth tiventy men. I am now on my %vay to Blois, as the 
Comte de la Fere lives in the Chateau de Bragelonne, near that 
townl^ 

And upon this he took the road to Blois, gossiinng with 
Planchet, which was a great diversion during their long journey. 


118 


TWENTY YEARS AFTEIL 


CHAPTER XV. 

TWO ANGELIC HEADS. 

They had a long journey before them, but D’Artagnan did 
not distress himself about it. He knew that his horses had 
been invigorated at the abundant racks of the Seigneur Bracieux. 
He therefore started off on the four or five days’ journey with 
full confidence, followed by the faithful Flanchet. 

As we have before said, these two men, to break the tedious- 
ness of the way, journeyed side by side and constantly chatted 
together. As D’Artagnan had gradually laid aside the master, 
so also had Flanchet thrown off the guise of the servant. He 
was a cunning fellow, and since his sudden elevation to citizen- 
ship, he had often regretted the free living of other days, and 
the conversation and brilliant society of gentlemen • and, con- 
scious of a certain kind of personal quality, grieved to find 
himself gradually deteriorated by perpetual contact with men 
of low ideas. 

He was therefore soon raised to the rank of a confidant of 
him whom he still called his master. D’Artagnan had not i 
opened his heart for many years. The consequence was that | 
these two men, on meeting again, suited each other admirably. 

Besides, Flanchet was no vulgar companion in adventures. 
He was a man of considerable intelligence ; without exactly 
seeking danger, he did not recoil at its approach, as D’Artagnan 
had two or three times experienced ; and, lastly, he had been a 
soldier, and arms dignify any one. More than all, if Flanchet 
needed him he needed Flanchet quite as much. It was there- 
fore almost on the footing of good friends that they reached 
the region of Blois. 

On the way, D’Artagnan, shaking his head and returning to 
the idea that constantly beset him, said : 

I know full well that this expedition to Athos is perfectly 
useless and absurd ; but I owe this respect to my old friend — 
one who had stuff in him for the composition of the most gener- 
ous and most noble gentleman in the whole world.” 

Oh ! M. Athos was a high-spirited gentleman,” said Flan- 
chet. 

Was he not !” ejaculated D’Artagnan. 

“ Scattering money as the sky scatters hail,” continued Flan- 


TWO ANGELIC HEADS. 


119 


chet, and handling his sword with the air of a king. Do you 
remember, sir, the duel with the Englishman in the enclosure 
Des Carmes ? Ah, how handsome and dignified was M. Athos 
that day, when he said to his adversary : ^ You obliged me to 
tell you my name, sir ; so much the worse for you, for I shall 
be forced to kill you.’ I was near and heard him say it. 
That is exactly what he said. And the glance, when he kept 
his word and despatched his adversary, who fell without a 
groan ! Ah, sir, I repeat that he was a high-spirited gentle- 
man.” 

“ Yes,” said D’Artagnan, this is all true as the gospel ; but 
he may have lost all these fine qualities by one defect.” 

I remember,” said Planchet, he loved to drink ; or rather 
he drank. But he did not drink like other men. His eyes 
said nothing when he carried the glass to his lips. Truly, 
silence was iiever so eloquent. I fancy that I hear him mur- 
muring, ^ Enter wine, and drive away my cares.’ And how he 
broke the foot of a glass, or a neck of a bottle ! Ho one could 
do it like him.” 

Well ; and now,” continued D’ Artagnan, mark the sad 
spectacle that awaits us. That noble gentleman, with such a 
proud look, — that handsome cavalier, so brilliant in arms that 
the only wonder was to see him carrying a simple sword and 
not the bâton of a field-marshal, — well, he will be transformed 
into a crooked old man, with a red nose and bleary eyes. We 
shall find him stretched on the turf, whence he will regard us 
with dull eyes, which probably will not be able to recognise us. 
God is my witness, Planchet,” continued D’ Artagnan, “ that I 
would avoid this melancholy spectacle, if I were not determined 
to pay this respect to the shade of the illustrious Comte de la 
Fère, whom we loved so dearly.” 

Planchet shook his head without saying a word. It was 
evident that he shared his master’s fears. 

And then,” continued D’ Artagnan, that decrepitude — 
for Athos is getting old now — and perhaps poverty, for he 
will have neglected the little property he possessed, and that 
dirty Grimaud, more dumb than ever and even more drunken 
than his master. You see, Planchet, all this breaks my heart.” 

I fancy that I am there, and that I see him stammering 
and staggering,” said Planchet, in a piteous voice. 

My only fear, I confess,” continued D’Artagnan, is that 
in a fit of drunken military ardour he may accept my pro- 


120 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


posais ; that would be a great misfortune and a real embarrass-^ 
ment to me and Porthos ; but in the midst of his next debauch 
we will leave him ; when he recovers his senses he will under- 
stand/’ 

At any rate, sir,” said Planch et, we shall soon be enlight- 
ened on the subject, for I fancy that those lofty walls which 
are now tinted by the setting sun are the walls of Blois.” 

Probably so,” said D’ Artagnan, and those sharp and • 
sculptured turrets, of which we just catch a glimpse in the 
forest to the left, resemble what I have heard of Chambord.” 

Shall we enter the town ? ” inquired Planchet. 

Certainly, to gain some information.” 

“ I advise you, sir, if we enter it, to taste some little pots of 
cream, of which I have heard a great deal, but which, unfort- 
unately, cannot be carried to Paris, but must be eaten on the 
spot.” 

“ Well, we will eat some of them, you may depend upon it,” 
said D’ Artagnan. 

At this mc»ment a heavy ox-waggon such as carry the wood 
cut in the beautiful forests of the region down to the ports 
of the Loire came out of a rutty path into the road which 
the two horsemen were following. A man accompanied it, car- 
rying a long pole armed with a nail, with which he goaded his 
sluggish team. 

“ Hé ! my friend,” cried Planchet to the ox-driver. 

“ What can I do for you, gentlemen ? ” inquired the peasant, 
in elegant language characteristic of the people of that region, 
and worthy to shame the purists of the Place de la Sorbonne or 
the Bue de l’Université. 

“ We are seeking the house of M. le Comte de la Père,” said 
D’ Artagnan ; do you know that name among the nobles of 
your neighbourhood ? ” 

The peasant took off his hat on hearing the name, and 
replied : 

Gentlemen, this wood which I am carrying belongs to him. 

I have cut it in his forest, and am taking it to the. chateau.” 

D’ Artagnan did not wish to interrogate this man. It was 
repugnant to his feelings to hear from another what he had 
himself said to Planchet. 

The chateau ! ” said he to himself. The chateau ! Ah ! 
I understand. Athos is not very meek ; so, like Porthos, he 
has compelled his peasants to call him monseigneur, and to 


TWO ANGELIC HEADS. 


121 


term his hovel a chateau. That dear Athos, especially when 
he was in his cups, had a heavy hand.” 

The oxen made slow progress ; and as D’Artagnan and 
Planchet followed the waggon, the pace made them impatient. 

Is this the road ? ” inquired D’Artagnan, “ and may we 
follow it without danger of mistaking the way ? ” 

Oh, moil Dieu ! certainly, sir,” replied the man ; and you 
can proceed without following these sluggish beasts. You 
have but half a league to go, and you will perceive a château 
on your right ; you cannot yet see it, on account of a screen of 
poplars that conceals it. That chateau is not Bragelonne — it 
is La Vallière. You must go beyond it; but at the distance 
of three musket-shots farther on, you will perceive a large 
white house with a slated roof, built on an eminence and 
shaded by enormous sycamores ; that is the château of M. le 
Comte de la Fère.” 

And is this half a league very long ? For there are leagues 
and leagues in our fine country of France.” 

Ten minutes will suffice, sir, for your horse’s slender legs.” 

D’Artagnan thanked the man, and immediately pushed for- 
ward. Then in spite of all he could do, agitated by the idea 
of again seeing the singular man who had so dearly loved him. 
and who both by his example and precepts had so great’ 
contributed to his education as a gentleman, he gradua‘^^^^ 
slackened his horse’s pace, and went on with his head dro 
ing like a dreamer. 

Planchet also had found matter for grave reflection in 
meeting and the peasant’s manner. Never in Normandy, 
Franche-Comté, or in Artois, or in Picardy, countries whid^P^^ 
had inhabited, had he met among the villagers that easy 
that polished air, that elegant language. He was temptecî^^h 
believe that he had fallen in with some, gentleman frondei®^ 
like himself, who, from political motives, had, as he had done, 
been obliged to assume some disguise. 

Soon, at a turn of the road, the Château de la Vallière, as the 
ox-driver had said, came into the travellers’ view ; and then, a 
quarter of a league farther on, the white house, embosomed in 
sycamores, was seen at the extremity of a thick group of trees 
which the spring had powdered with flowers as thick as snow- 
flakes. 

On seeing this, D’Artagnan, who was not generally very 
emotional, felt a strange sensation penetrate his heart — so 


122 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


powerful are the recollections of our youth during the whole 
course of life. Planchet, who had not the same cause for 
such feeling, was astonished at seeing his master’s agitation, 
and looked alternately at D’Artagnan and at the house. 

The Musketeer went some steps farther, and found himself 
opposite a grating, wrought with the taste that distinguishes the 
ironwork of the period. Through this grating a well-tended 
garden could be seen ; also a spacious court, in which many 
saddle-horses were pawing, held by several servants in different 
liveries ; and there was, likewise', a carriage, drawn by two 
horses of the country. 

We are either mistaken, or that man has deceived us,” 
said D’Artagnan. Athos cannot live here. My God ! per- 
haps he is dead, and this property belongs to some one of the 
same name ! Dismount, Planchet, and go and inquire. I con- 
fess I have not the courage to do it.” 

Planchet dismounted. 

You will add,” continued D’Artagnan, ^^that a gentleman 
passing wishes to have the honour of paying his respects to M. 
le Comte de la Père ; and should you be satisfied with the 
information you receive — well, then you may give my name.” 
L. Planchet, leading his horse by the bridle, approached the gate 
ryd rang the bell ; and immediately a servant, with gray hair, 
sluf still upright in spite of his age, came forward and received 

il 

“Does M. le Comte de la Fere live here?” demanded 
in elehet. 

and ves, sir,” replied the servant, for Planchet did not wear 
the Rvery. 

“ A nobleman, who has left the service, is he not ? ” 

DV Yes, the same.” 

yo*^ And who had a lacquey named Grimaud ? ” continiTed Plan- 
^net, who, with his habitual prudence, did not think he could 
fortify himself with too much information. 

“ M. Grimaud is at present absent from the chateau,” said 
the servant, beginning to examine Planchet from top to toe 
like one little accustomed to such interrogations. 

“ Then,” exclaimed Planchet, quite radiant with joy, “ I per- 
ceive that it is really the same Comte de la Fère whom we are’ 
seeking. Will you open the gate ? — for I wish to announce 
to M. le Comte that my master, one of his friends, is here, 
and wishes to pay his respects to him.” 


TWO ANGELIC HEADS. 


123 


And why did you not say so before ? ” said the servant, 
opening the gate. But where is your master ? 

“ Behind me — he is following.^’ 

The servant opened the gate, and preceded Planchet, who 
made a sign to D’Artagnan, who. his heart beating more 
violently than ever, entered the court on horseback. 

When Planchet was on the steps, he heard a voice issuing 
from one of the lower rooms, and saying : 

Well, where is this gentleman, and why do you not con- 
duct him here ? 

This voice, which reached D’Artagnan also, awoke in his 
heart a thousand emotions, a thousand recollections which he 
had forgotten. He threw himself hastily from his horse, 
while Planchet, with a smile on his lips, was going toward 
the master of the house. 

Why, I know that fellow,” said Athos, making his appear- 
ance on the threshold. 

Yes, M. le Comte, you know me, and I know you well 
enough. I am Planchet, M. le Comte, — Planchet, you know ” — 

And here the honest fellow could not say a word more, so 
completely had the unexpected appearance of the gentleman 
astounded him. 

What, Planchet ! ” exclaimed Athos ; is M. d’Artagnaii 
here, then ? ” 

I am, my friend ; here I am, dear Athos ! ” cried D’Arta- 
gnan, stammering and almost staggering. 

At these words a very perceptible emotion passed across the 
handsome face and calm features of Athos. He took two rapid 
steps toward D’Artagnan, without taking his eyes off him one 
instant, and tenderly pressed him in his arms. D’Artagnan, 
on his part, somewhat recovered from his agitation, embraced 
him with a cordiality that shone in his tearful eyes. 

Athos then took him by the hand, which he pressed between 
his own, and led him into a salon, where many persons were 
assembled. Every one arose. 

I present to you,” said Athos, “ M. le Chevalier d’Artagnan, 
lieutenant of his Majesty’s Musketeers, a devoted friend, and 
one of the bravest and most lovable men I ever knew.” 

D’Artagnan, according to the custom, received the compli- 
ments of the company, to which he responded in the best man- 
ner he could ; and while the conversation, interrupted for a 
moment, again became general, he began to study Athos. 


124 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Strange ! Athos had scarcely aged at all. His beautiful eyes, 
freed from that circle of dark brown which tells the story of mid- 
night debauches, appeared to be larger and of a purer liquid 
thau ever. His countenance, slightly elongated, had gained 
in dignity what it had lost in febrile excitement. His hand, 
always wonderfully handsome and nervous in spite of the soft- 
ness of the skin, shone from under a lace ruffle, like certain 
hands by Titian and Vandyk. He was rather more slender than 
formerly ; his well-made broad shoulders ■ announced unusual 
strength ; his long, dark hair, slightly sprinkled with gray, fell 
gracefully on his shoulders, waving naturally ; his voice was as 
fresh and as clear as if he had been only twenty-five ; and his 
splendid teeth, white and perfect, gave an inexpressible charm 
to his smile. 

Meantime his guests, perceiving by the imperceptible dulness 
of the conversation, that the friends were eager to be alone, 
began, with old-time skill and politeness, to prepare for their 
departure — that momentous affair in high life, when there 
was a high life. But a tremendous noise of dogs barking 
resounded in the court, and several persons cried out together : 

Ah ! Kaoul is come back.” 

Athos, at this word Baoul, looked at D’Artagnan, and seemed 
to look for the curiosity which this name might well excite. 
But HArtagnan as yet comprehended nothing; he had not 
recovered from his astonishment. He therefore turned almost 
mechanically, when a handsome youth, about fifteen years old, 
simply but most tastefully dressed, entered the salon, grace- 
fully raising his hat, adorned with long scarlet plumes. 

And yet this person, unexpected as he was, much struck him. 
A world of new ideas invaded his mind, explaining to him, 
through every, avenue of his fine intellect, the alteration in 
Athos, which had hitherto appeared quite inexplicable. A 
singular resemblance between the gentleman and the boy | 
explained the mystery of this reformed life. He waited, | 
observing and listening. Î 

“ So you are returned, Baoul,” said the Count. . i 

“ Yes, sir,” replied the young man respectfully, and I have 
executed the commision which you gave me.” 

But what is the matter with you, Baoul ? ” said Athos, 
somewhat anxiously ; “ you are pale and seem agitated.” 

It is because a misfortune has happened to our little neigh- 
bour, sir,” replied the young man. 


TWO ANGELIC HEADS. 


125 


Mademoiselle de la Vallière?’’ said Athos, witli sonic 
vivacity. 

“ What is it ? ’’ asked many of the gentlemen present. ^ 

She was walking with her nurse, Madeline, in the ench*'fjUTb 
where the wood-cutters were trimming their trees, wheii, as 1 
rode past, I saw her, and stopped. When she saw me she 
jumped off a pile of fagots on which she had climbed, her foot 
turned under her, she fell and was not able to rise again. 1 
fear that she has sprained her ankle.” 

Oh, my God ! And has Madame de St. Eemy, her mother, 
been informed of it ? ” 

^^No, sir, Madame de St. Eemy is at Blois, in attendance 
on Madame the Duchesse d’Orléans. I feared that she might 
be treated unskilfully, and hastened here to ask your advice.” 

“ Send quickly to Blois ; or, rather, do you take your horse, 
Eaoul, and go yourself.” 

Eaoul bowed. 

But where is Louise ? ” inquired the Count. 

I have had her brought here, sir, and have left her with 
Chariot’s wife, who, in the meantime, has put her foot into cold 
water.” 

After this explanation, which had given an opportunity for 
every one to rise, Athos’s guests took their leave. The old 
Due de Barbé alone, in virtue of a twenty years’ friendship 
with the family of La Vallière, went to see the little Louise, 
who was crying, and who, when she saw Eaoul, dried her beau- 
tiful eyes and smiled. Then he proposed to carry the little 
Louise with him to Blois in his carriage. 

You are right, sir,” said Athos ; she will be the sooner with 
her mother. As for you, Eaoul, I am sure that you have acted 
thoughtlessly, and that it was your fault.” 

Oh, no, no, sir, I assure you not,” cried the young girl ; 
while the youth grew pale at the thought of his having been 
the cause of the accident. 

Oh, sir, I assure you” — murmured Eaoul. 

You shall, nevertheless, go to Blois,” said the Count kindly 
and you will make your excuses to Madame de St. Eemy and 
then return.” 

The color again appeared on the young man’s cheek. After 
having consulted the Count’s eyes, he took the young girl up in 
his strong arms, and her pretty face, smiling in the midst of her 
pain, on his shoulder, placed her in the carriage, and 


126 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


tlieij vaulted on his horse with the grace and agility of an 
arcomplvshed .squire. After having bowed to Athos and 
D* Art 'agnail, he went off rapidly, putting himself close to the 
carriage-door and keeping his eyes constantly fixed on its 
interior. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE CHATEAU DE BRAGELONNE. 

D’Artagnan had remained during all this scene with his 
eyes wide open and his mouth almost gaping with wonder. 

He had found everything so completely different from his 
expectations that he was almost stupid with astonishment. 

Athos took his arm and led him into the garden. 

“ While supper is preparing,” said he, smiling, you will not 
be sorry, my friend, to clear up a little of this mystery that 
makes you so thoughtful.” 

“ That is true. Count,” replied D’Artagnan, who had already 
begun to feel the influence of that vast aristocratic superiority 
which Athos always had over him. 

Athos looked at him wdth his genial smile. “ But first, my 
dear D’Artagnan,” said he, there is no Count here. If I called 
you Chevalier, it was to introduce you to my guests, and that 
they might know who you were. But to you, D’Artagnan, I 
hope that I am always Athos, your comrade and friend. Do 
you prefer ceremony because you love me less ? ” 

“ Oh, God forbid ! ” said the Gascon, wdth one of those loyal 
youthful outbursts which seldom take i)lace in mature age. 

“ Then let us return to our old habits ; and, to begin, let us 
be frank. Everything astonishes you here, does it not ? ” 

“ Profoundly ! ” 

But what astonishes you most,” continued Athos, smiling, 
is myself ? Confess it.” 

I do confess it.” 

I am yet young, am I not, in spite of my forty-nine years ? 
I am yet recognisable ? ” 

“ On the contrary,” said D’Artagnan, who was about to carry 
Athos’s recommendation of frankness farther than he had 
intended, ^^you are not so at all.” 

“ Ah ! I understand,” said Athos, coloring slightly \ every- 
thing has its end, D’Artagnan, — folly and all.” 


THE CHÂTEAU DE BRAGELONNE. 


127 


^ And then there has been a change in your fortune, it seems. 
You have a capital house ; it belongs to you, T presume ? ” 

Yes ; it is the small property, my friend, which, you know, 
I told you I inherited when I left the service.” 

You have a park, horses, and equipages ? ” 

Athos smiled. 

The park has twenty acres, my dear friend, including the 
kitchen-garden; my horses amount to two,, besides the crop- 
eared bobtail for my lacquey; my equipages consist of four 
setters, two greyhounds, and a pointer ; and all this luxury of 
a pack,” added Athos, smiling, is not for myself.” 

“ Yes, I comprehend,” said D’Artagnan ; it is for the young 
man — for E-aoul.” 

And D’Artagnan looked at Athos with an involuntary smile. 

You have guessed it, my friend,” said Athos. 

^^And this young man is your companion, your godson, 
perhaps your relation ? Ah ! how you are changed, my dear 
Athos ! ” 

This young man,” said Athos calmly, — “ this young man, 
D’Artagnan, is an orphan, whom his mother abandoned at the 
house of a poor county curé. I have brought him up and 
educated him.” 

He must be very much attached to you ? ” 

“ I believe that he loves me as if I were his father.” 

“He must be very grateful.” 

“ Oh ! as to gratitude, it is reciprocal. I owe him as much 
as he owes me. I do not say so to him, but I tell you so, 
D’Artagnan, — the obligation is on my side.” 

“ How can that be ? ” inquired the astonished Musketeer. 

“ Oh, my God, yes ; he it is who has caused the change you 
see in me. I was withering like a solitary and blighted tree. 
Nothing but a most profound and deep affection could again 
unite my heart to the affairs of this life. A mistress ? — I was 
too old. Friends ? — I possessed you no longer. Well, this 
boy restored to me ail that I had lost. I had no longer courage 
to live for myself: I have therefore lived for him. Frecepts 
do a great deal for a child, but example does much more. I 
have given him an example, D’Artagnan. The vioes which I 
had I corrected ; the virtues which I possessed not I have pre- 
tended to possess. Therefore, I do not think that I deceive 
myself when I say that Raoul is destined to become as perfect 
a gentleman as this poor age of ours can produce.” 


128 


rWEJStTY YEARS AFTER. 


D’Artagnan looked at Athos with increasing admiration. 
They were walking under a green and shady alley, through 
which some straggling rays of the setting sun found their 
One of these golden beams illuminated the countenance of 
Athos, and his eyes appeared to throw back the warm and 
gentle evening glow which they received. 

The thought of Lady de Winter suddenly crossed D’Arta- 
gnaiTs mind. 

And you are happy ? ” said he to his friend. 

Athos’s quick eye penetrated even to the bottom of DWrta- 
gnan’s heart, and seemed to read his thought there. 

As happy as it is permitted to any of God’s creatures to be 
here on earth. But finish your thought, D’Artagnan, for you 
have not told it all to me.” 

You are terrible, Athos,” said D’Artagnan ; it is impos- 
sible to conceal anything from you. Well, then, I wished to 
ask you whether you have not occasionally sudden emotions of 
dread like” — 

“ Like remorse,” continued Athos. I finish your sentence 
for you, my friend. Yes and no. I feel no remorse, because 
I believe that that woman deserved her fate. I feel no remorse, 
because, had we allowed her to live, she would have infallibly 
continued her destructive course. But this does not mean that 
I am convinced that we had the right to do what we did. Per- 
haps all blood shed requires expiation. She expiated what she 
shed : it may be that we have yet to expiate that shed by us.” 

“ I have sometimes had the same thoughts,” said D’Arta- 
gnan. 

That woman had a son, had she not ? ” 

Yes.” 

“ Have you ever heard anything of him ? ” 

Never.” 

He must be twenty-three years old,” murmured Athos. 

I often think of that young man, D’Artagnan.” 

It is singular ; and I had entirely forgotten him.” 

Athos smiled a melancholy smile. 

And have you ever heard anything of Lord de Winter ? ” 

I kno’v^ that he was in high favour with King Charles I.” 

He must have shared his fortune, which, at present, is very 
bad. Observe, D’Artagnan, that makes good what I said just 
now ; he allowed Strafford’s blood to be shed ; blood demands 
blood. And the Queen ? ” 


THE CHÂTEAU DE BRAGELONNE, 


129 


Which Queen ? ’’ 

Madame Henriette of England, the daughter of Henry IV.” 
“ She is at the Louvre, you know,” 

Yes ; where she is in utter destitution, is she not ? During 
the severe cold of last winter, her sick daughter, I have been 
told, was obliged to remain in bed for want of hre-wood. Do 
you understand that ? ” said Athos, shrugging his shoulders ; 
“ the daughter of Henry IV. shivering for w^ant of a fagot ! 
Why did she not come to ask hospitality from the first of us 
she met, instead of from Mazarin ? She would then have 
wanted nothing.” 

Why, do you know her, Athos ? ” 

^^No ; but my mother saw her when she was a child. Did I 
never tell you that my mother was maid of honour to Marie de’ 
Medicis ? ” 

Never ; you did not talk of such things as those, Athos.” 

‘ Oh, yes, I did,” replied Athos ; but only on suitable occa- 
sions.” 

^ ^^Porthos was not so reserved,” said D’Artagnan, with a 
|, smile. 

r Every one has his own peculiar disposition, my dear 
f D’Artagnan ; and Porthos has excellent qualities, in spite of 
his vanity. Have you seen him lately ? ” 

I left him five days agô,” replied D’Artagnan. 

And then, with all the vivacity of his Gascon humour, he 
described the splendours of Porthos and his Château de Pierre- 
fonds; and w^hile he shot a broadside at his friend he cast 
several arrows of wit at the worthy Mouston. 

I often wonder,” said Athos, smiling at that gayety which 
recalled the bright days of old, that we all, by chance, formed 
, a society of men who are yet so completely united after a 
separation of twenty years. Friendship strikes its roots 
deep into sincere hearts. Believe me, only worthless men 
deny its power, because they are incapable of feeling it. And 
Aramis ? ” 

I have seen him also ; but he appeared cold.” 

Ah ! you have seen Aramis ? ” ejaculated Athos, looking at 
D’Artagnan with his penetrating eyes. Truly, it is a real 
pilgrimage to the Shrine of Friendship that you are making, 
as the poets would say.” 

Well, yes,” said D’Artagnan, somewhat embarrassed. 

' You know,” continued Athos, that Aramis is naturally 


130 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


cold. Besides, lie is always entangled in some intrigue with 
women.’’ 

I fancy that he is so at present, and in one of a very com- 
plicated nature,” replied D’Artagnan. 

Athos made no reply. 

He is not at all curious,” said D’Artagnan to himself. 

Athos not only made no reply, but he changed the conversa- 
tion. 

You see,” said he, pointing out the house, to which they 
had almost returned, in about an hour’s walk we have made 
the tour of all my domain.” 

“ Everything is so charming, and, above all, smacks of the 
gentleman,” replied D’Artagnan. 

At this moment the sound of a horse’s feet was heard. 

It is Eaoul returning,” said Athos ; “ we shall hear some 
news of the poor little girl.” 

In fact, the young man appeared at the barred gate, and 
covered with dust entered the courtyard. Then, jumping 
from his horse, he gave the bridle to a sort of groom, and 
came forward to salute the Count and D’Artagnan. 

This gentleman,” said Athos, laying his hand on D’Arta- 
gnan’s shoulder, — this gentleman is the Chevalier d’Arta- 
gnan, of whom you have so often heard me speak, Raoul.” 

“ Sir,” said the young man, bowing again and more pro- 
foundly, the Count has mentioned your name whenever he 
wished to cite the example of an intrepid and noble gentle- 
man.” 

This little compliment did not fail to touch D’Artagnan. 
He stretched forth his hand to Raoul, saying — 

My young friend, all the praises bestowed on me ought to 
revert to the Count, who trained me in all things, and it is not 
his fault if his pupil has not profited by his instructions. But 
he will succeed with you, I am sure, Raoul. I like your 
manner, and your politeness has given me great pleasure.” 

Athos was more delighted than he could express. He looked 
gratefully at D’Artagnan, and then gave Raoul one of those 
rare smiles that children are so proud of receiving. 

‘‘Now,” thought D’Artagnan, whom this mute expression of 
countenance had not escaped, “ I am quite certain of it.” 

• “ Well,” said Athos, “I hope that the accident has had no 
serious consequences ? ” 

“ They cannot yet tell, sir. The doctor can form no decision 



"THIS GENTLEMAN IS THE CHEVALIER D’ARTAGNAN, RAOUL. 



131 


THE CHÂTEAU DE BRAGELONNE. 


as yet, on account of the swelling ; he fears, however, that a 
Hendon may be injured.” 

“ And why did not you remain longer with Madame de St. 
Iteiny ? ” 

-, I feared that I should not be back in time for your dinner, 
isir,” said Raoul, and that I might keep you waiting.” 

At this moment a little boy, half peasant, half lacquey, came 
to announce supper. 

Athos conducted his guest into a dining-room, very plainly 
and simply furnished ; but the windows looked on one side 
'toward the garden, on the other, on a conservatory tilled with 
magnificent flowers. 

D’Artagnan looked at the service. The plate was splendid ; 
j it was evidently the ancient family plate. On a sideboard was 
a superb silver ewer, which D’Artagnan stopped to examine. 

Ah ! this is divinely executed,” said he. 

Yes,” replied Athos, it is one of the masterpieces of that 
Florentine artist, Benvenuto Cellini.” 



J “ And what battle does it represent ? ” 

Marignan. It is at the moment when one of my ancestors 
gave his sword to Francis I., who had just broken his own. It 
was on this occasion that Engnerrand de la Fère, my grand- 
father, was made a knight of St. Michael. Besides that, the 
King, fifteen years later, — for he had not forgotten that he 
had fought three hours longer with his friend Enguerrand’s 
sword without its breaking, — made him a present of this ewer, 
and of a sword which probably you saw formerly in my room, 
and which is also a very handsome piece of workmanship. 
Those were the days of the giants,” said Athos. ‘‘ We are but 
pigmies by the side of such men. But let us sit down and 
sup, D’Artagnan. By the by,” said Atlios to the little ser- 
vant, who had just served the soup, call Chariot.” 

I The boy left the room, and a moment after the servant who 
had come to the gate on their arrival entered. 

My dear Chariot,” said Athos, I particularly recommend 
to your càre, during his continuance here, Planchet, M. d’Arta- 
. gnan’s lacquey. He likes good wine, and you have the keys of 
' the cellar. He has often lain hard and cannot have any objec- 
tion to a good bed ; so look to that also, I beseech you.” 

\ Chariot bowed and left the room. 

i “ Chariot is also a fine fellow,” said Athos ; he has lived 
^Iwith me eighteen years.” 


132 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


You think of everything,” said D’Artagnan; ^^and I thank 
you for Planchet, my dear Athos.” 

The youth opened his eyes with astonishment at this name, and 
seemed to doubt whether D’Artagnan really addressed the Count. 

That name appeared strange to you, did it not, Raoul ? ” 
said Athos, smiling. It was my military appellation when 
M. d’Artagnan, two worthy friends, and myself performed our 
exploits at La Rochelle, under the late Cardinal, and M. de 
Sassompierre, who is since dead. This gentleman deigns to 
*etain for me this friendly appellation, and every time 1 hear 
d my heart warms with emotion.” 

‘‘ That name was once very celebrated,” said D’Artagnan, 
f and one day received the honours of a triumph.” 

What do you mean, sir ? ” demaned Raoul, with youthful 
lîuriosity. 

Faith ! I know nothing about it,” said Athos. 

Have you forgotten the bastion of St. Gervais, Athos, and 
the napkin which was turned into a flag by three musket-balls ? 
I have a better memory than you have, and will tell you all 
about it, young man.” 

And he recounted to Raoul all the history of the bastion, as 
Athos had related it to him. 

At this recital the youth fancied he saw before him one of 
those feats of arms depicted by Tasso or Arisoto, and belong- 
ing to the romantic ages of chivalry. 

“ But what D’Artagnan does not tell you,” said Athos, “ is 
that he was one of the best swordsmen of his time. Hand 
of iron, wrist of steel, aim certain, and eye of fire — that is 
what his adversary had to contend with. He was eighteen 
— three years older than you, Raoul — when I first saw him 
in action and against tried men.” 

“ And was M. d’Artagnan victorious ? ” inquired the young 
man, whose eyes shone bright during this conversation, and 
appeared to ask for some particulars. 

‘‘ I killed one, I believe,” replied D’Artagnan, stopping 
Athos by a glance. As for the other, I either disarmed 
him or wounded him, I forget which.” 

“ Oh ! you wounded him — you were a rough opponent,” 
said Athos. 

And I have not lost a great deal of my skill,” replied 
D’Artagnan, with his little Gascon laugh of self-satisfaction 5 

and a little while ago ” — - 


A TH os' s DIPLOMACY. 


133 


A look from Athos stopped his mouth. 

I ;,di you to learn, Êaoul,” said Athos, “ you who fancy 
}'ouiseif oO skilful, and whose vanity might some day receive a 
severe lesson, — I wish you to learn how dangerous the man is 
who unites coolness to activity ; for I could never give you a 
more striking example. Request M. d’Artagnan to give us a 
lesson to-morrow, if he be not too much fatigued.” 

Hang it, my dear Athos, you are yourself an excellent 
master, more particularly as to those qualifications which you 
extol in me. This very day Flanchet was speaking to me of 
that famous duel, with Lord de Winter and his companions, 
in the enclosure of Des Cannes. Ah ! young man,” continued 
D’Artagnan, “ there is here one whom I often called the best 
swordman in the world.” 

“ Oh, I must have spoiled my hand with this boy,” said 
Athos. 

There are some hands which never spoil, my dear Athos, 
but which spoil others.” ^ 

The young man would willingly have prolonged this conver- 
sation the whole night ; but Athos observed that their guest 
must be fatigued and in need of repose. D’Artagnan politely 
expostulated ; but Athos insisted upon his taking possession 
of his room. Raoul conducted him to it ; and as Athos fancied 
that he would remain there as long as he could, to make him 
tell him all the exploits of their youth, he himself went for 
him a short time after, and finished this delightful evening 
by a friendly squeeze of the hand and a good-night to the 
Musketeer. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

ATHOS’S DIPLOMACY. 

D’Artagnan went to bed, not so much for the sake of sleep- 
ing as to be alone, and to think on all that he had seen and 
heard that evening. 

As he had an excellent disposition, and had from the first 
experienced for Athos a kind of instinctive inclination which 
had grown into a sincere friendship, he was delighted to find a 
man alive, with intellect and vigor, instead of the brutalised 
drunkard whom he had expected to see dozing himself sober 


134 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


on a dunghill. He also submitted, without much / . tance, 

to a resumption of that superiority which Athos had always had 
over him ; and instead of feeling any of that jealousy and 
disappointment which would have affected a less generous 
nature, he felt a sincere and loyal joy, giving him hopes of a 
favourable result from his negotiation. 

Yet it seemed to him that Athos was not quite frank and 
open on all points. Who was this young man, whom he said 
he had adopted, and who so much resembled him ? What 
meant that return to the ways of the world, that overstrained 
sobriety, which he had observed at table ? One circumstance, 
insignificant in itself, namely, the absence of Grimaud, — from 
whom Athos could not be separated in former times, and whose 
name had not even been mentioned, in spite of various hints, — 
much disquieted D’Artagnan. He no longer, then, possessed 
his friend’s entire confidence ; or Athos was connected to some in- 
visible chain, or had been before warned of the visit he paid him. 

He could not help thinking of Eibchefort, and of what he 
said in the Church of Notre Dame. Had Rochefort been here 
before him ? 

D’Artagnan had no time to lose in long refiections. There- 
fore he determined to come to an explanation the next day. 
The smallness of Athos’s fortune, so skilfully concealed, evinced 
his anxiety for appearances, and betrayed a remnant of ambition 
which might be easily rekindled. Àthqs’s vigor of intellect 
and clearness of ideas made hini a man more easy to be roused 
than most others ; and he would enter into the plans of the 
minister with the greater ardour, from his natural activity being j 
doubled by the spur of necessity. j 

These thoughts kept D’Artagnan awake, in spite of his j 
fatigue. He arranged his plans of attack ; and although he | 
knew that Athos was a formidable opponent, he determined to ! 
commence action after breakfast the next morning. I 

And yet,” he said to himself, “ it is necessary to proceed 
with great caution, and it may be better to examine for some i 
days Athos’s connections, to gain some information as to his 
new habits of life, to endeavour to draw from the artless youth, , 
either while fencing or hunting with him, some intermediate ^ 
intelligence, so as to connect the Athos of former times with Î 
the Athos of the present ; and this will probably be easy, for 
the scholar must have imbibed something of the character of 
his preceptor.” 


ATHOS'S DIPLOMACY. 


135 


But D’Artagnan, who was a most acute Gascon, s w at once 
what advantages he would give against himself, w iue he, by 
any indiscretion or want of skill, to expose his manoeuvres to 
Athos’s practised eye. 

And then it must be confessed — however willing he was to 
use stratagem against the cunning of Aramis and the vanity of 
Porthos — D’Artagnan was ashamed to shuffle with Athos, the 
frank and honourable gentleman. It seemed to him that in 
acknowledging him their superior in finesse, Porthos and Aramis 
would think more highly of him ; but that Athos, on the con- 
trary, would esteem him less. 

Ah ! why is not Grimaud, the silent Grimaud, here ? ” said 
D’Artagnan ; there are many things which I should have 
understood in his silence. Grimaud had such an eloquent 
silence.” 

Meantime, all noises had ceased in the house. D’Artagnan 
had heard the doors and shutters closed. Then the dogs outside, 
after having answered one another for a while, in turn were 
quiet. Finally a nightingale, hidden in a thick mass of shrub- 
bery, poured out its melodious notes in the midst of the night, 
and went to sleep. There was no other noise in the chateau 
than the measured and monotonous tread of some one walking 
underneath his chamber. He imagined that it was Athos’s 
room. 

He is walking and meditating,” thought D’Artagnan ; but 
on what ? It is impossible to tell. One might guess every- 
thing else — but not that.” 

At last Athos, no doubt, went to bed, for this noise also 
ceased. The silence and fatigue overcame D’Artagnan; he 
closed his eyes and almost immediately fell asleep. 

D’Artagnan was no sluggard. Scarcely had the first dawn 
of day gilded his shutters, before he leaped from his bed and 
opened his windows. He thought he saw through the blinds 
some one in the court who appeared to wish to avoid being seen 
or heard. According to his usual custom of observing every- 
thing that took place around him, D’Artagnan watched, with- 
out making the slightest noise, and recognised Baoul’s garnet- 
colored coat and brown hair. 

The young man — for he it was — opened the stable door 
and led forth the same bay horse which he rode the evening 
before, saddled and bridled it himself as quickly and skilfully 
as a professed groom, then led the animal down the right path 


136 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


of the kitchen garden, opened a small side door, led his horse 
out, and shut the door after him ; and then, over the top of the 
wall, D’Artagnan perceived him pass like an arrow under the 
low-hanging branches of the maples and acacias. D’Artagnan 
had remarked the evening before that the road led to Blois. 

Aha ! ’’ said the Gascon, there is a young rogue who is 
already playing his pranks, and who does not appear to share 
Athos’s hatred of the fair sex. He is not gone out hunting, for 
he has neither dogs nor arms ; he is not gone on a commission, 
for he seeks concealment. From whom does he conceal himself ? 
From me or his father ? — for I am quite certain that the Count 
is his father. As for that, however, I will know it ; for I will 
ask Athos plainly whether it is so.’’ 

The daylight increased. All those noises which D’Artagnan 
heard cease successively the night before he now heard succes- 
sively renewed — the bird in the branches, the dog in the stable, 
the sheep in the pastures ; the boats moored on the Loire 
seemed to revive, detaching themselves from the banks, and 
letting themselves float down on the current. Thus D’Arta- 
gnan remained at his window , that he might not waken any 
one. ’ Then, when he heard the doors and shutters open, he 
gave a last turn to his hair and a last curl to his mustache, 
brushed, from habit, the rim of his hat with the sleeve of 
his doublet, and went downstairs. He had hardly left the 
house before he perceived Athos, stooping down to the earth 
in the attitude of a man who is looking for a coin in the sand. 

“ Good morning, my dear host,” cried D’Artagnan. 

Good morning, dear friend. Have you passed a good 
night ? ” 

Excellent, Athos, — like your bed, like your supper, which 
was conducive to pleasant sleep, and like your reception of me. 
But what were you looking for so earnestly ? Are you per- 
chance become an admirer of tulips ?” 

My dear friend, you need not make sport of me if I were. 
In the country tastes greatly change ; and unwittingly one 
learns to love all those beautiful things which the smile of God j 
causes to spring from the earth, and which are looked upon i 
with contempt in towns. In simple truth, I was looking at the j 
irises which I had placed near this reservoir, and which have j 
been crushed this morning. These gardeners are the most awk- ■ I 
ward creatures in the world. In leading a horse to water they i 
must have let him tread upon the flower-bed.” 


ATHOS'S DIPLOMACY. 


137 


B’Artagnan began to smile. 

“ Ah/’ said he, do you think so ? ” And he led his friend 
along the path, where a great number of similar steps were 
perceptible. “ Here are some more, Athos,” said he, in a care- 
less manner. 

“ Yes, so there are, and quite fresh ! Who can have gone 
out here this morning ? ” queried Athos, with some anxiety 
Can a horse have got out of the stable ? ” 

It is not probable,” said D’Artagnan, for the prints a 
equal and regular.” 

Where is Raoul ? ” cried Athos, and why have I not seei. 
him this morning ?” 

“ Hush ! ” said D’Artagnan, putting his finger on his lips, 
with a smile. 

What do you mean ? ” inquired Athos. 

D’Artagnan related what he had seen, at the same time 
scrutinizing his host’s countenance. 

Ah ! I understand all now,” said Athos, slightly shrugging 
his shoulders. The poor boy is gone to Blois.” 

Why ? ” 

To learn about the little La Vallière — the girl, you know, 
who hurt her foot yesterday.” 

Do you think so ? ” said D’Artagnan, as if incredulous. 

Not only do I think so, but I am quite certain,” replied 
Athos. ' Did you not observe that Raoul was in love ? ” 

And with whom ? — with that child of seven ? ” 

My dear fellow, at Raoul’s age the heart is so full that it 
must be bestowed on something, whether dream or reality. 
Well, his love is half one, half the other ! ” 

You are jesting. What ! that little girl ? ” 

But did you not observe that she is the prettiest little 
creature in the world, with her golden hair, and hér blue eyes 
already both rebellious and languishing ? ” 

But what say you to this passion ? ” 

I say nothing. I laugh and make sport of Raoul. But 
these first cravings of the heart are so imperious, these first 
expansions of the feelings are at the same time so sweet and so 
bitter, that they often appear to have the character of a real 
passion. As for me, I remember that, at Raoul’s age, I fell in 
love with a Greek statue which good King Henry IV. gave to 
my father ; and I thought I should have gone mad when I was 
told that the history of Bygiiialion was only a fable.” 


138 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


comes from sheer idleness. You do not occupy Raoul 
sufficiently; and he seeks to dissipate his inindT’^ 

“ That is exactly the case ; therefore I am thinking of re- 
moving him from this place.’^ 

“And you will do well.” 

“ I know that ; but it will almost break his heart, and he 
dll suffer as much as from a real passion. For three or four 
ears, even when he was himself quite a child, he has been 
msing himself wdth embellishing and admiring this little 
1, which he would come to adore should he remain here, 
hese children dream all day together, and talk of a thousand 
serious things, as if they wére lovers twenty years old. In 
short, these things have for so^ne time amused the little La 
Valliere’s parents ; but I fancy 'that they now begin to frown 
at it.” 

“ Utter childishness ! But Raoul requires something to dis- 
tract his attention. Remove him from this place, or you will 
never make a man of him.” 

“ I think,” said Athos, “ that I shall send him to Paris.” 

“ Ah ! ” said D’Artagnan, and he thought that the moment 
for opening hostilities had come. 

“ If you wish,” said he, “ we can make a career for this 
young man.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Athos, in his turn. 

“ In fact, I wish to consult you on something which has 
suggested itself to my mind.” 

“ Do so.” 

“ Do you not think that the time is come to take service ? ” 

“ But are you not in the service, D’Artagnan ? ” 

“ I mean active service. Has the life of old times nothing 
which tempts you ; and if any real advantage awaited you, 
would you 'not be willing to resume, in my company and 
in that of our mutual friend Porthos, the exploits of our 
youth ? ” 

“ So you are making me a real proposition, are you, D’Arta- 
gnan ? ” said Athos. 

“ A plain and simple one.” 

“ To reenter the service ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ On whose side, and against whom ? ” inquired Athos, sud- 
denly fixing his clear, kindly eye on the Gascon. 

“ Oh, the devil, you are so exacting ! ” 


ATHOS'S DIPLOMACY. 


139 


“ And, above all, particular. Mark me well, D’Artagnan : 
there is only one person, or rather one cause, to which a man 
^ like myself can be useful- — the King’s.’’ 
j “ Precisely so,” said the Musketeer. 

Yes, but let ns thoroughly understand each other,” replied 
Ythos, very seriously. If by the King’s cause yon mean 
-vt. de Mazarin’s, we are at cross-purposes.” 

I do not exactly say that,” rejoined D’Artagnan, with e;ii- 
barrassment. ' 

“ Come, D’Artagnan,” said Athos, there must be no finess- 
ing between us. Your hesitation, your turning and twisting, 
tell me plainly from whom you come. In fact, such a cause 
dare not be openly avowed ; and any one who recruits for it 
must do it with head depressed and faltering voice.” 

Oh, my dear Athos ! ” cried D’Artagnan. 

I You know,” continued Athos, that I do* not refer to you, 
who are the pearl of brave and honourable men. I speak to 
: you of that sordid and iutriguing Italian — of that vulgar 
creature who is trying to place on his own head a crown 
which he has stolen from under a pillow — of that cur who 
, ‘Calls his own party the King’s, and who is planning to im- 
' prison the princes of the blood, since he dares not kill them, 
as onr Cardinal, the great Cardinal, did ; of a skinflint, who 
f weights his golden crowns and keeps the parings, fearing, 

■ although he cheats, that he may lose them at the next day’s 
play ; a rascal, who, they say, ill-treats the Queen — r so much 

■ the worse for her ; and who, in three months, will bring upon 
I us a civil war, that he may himself keep possession of the 

pensions. Is that the master that you propose for me, D’Arta- 
1 gnan ? Many thanks to you ! ” 

Yon are more animated than formerly, God forgive me ! ” 
said D’Artagnan; ‘‘and years, instead of cooling, have heated 
your blood. Who has told you that this was my master, or that 
I wished to impose him on you ? ” 

“ The devil ! ” added the Gascon to himself ; “ we must not 
impart our secrets to a man so ill-disposed.” 

“ But, my dear friend,” said Athos, “ what are your proposi- 
tions, after all ? ” 

“ Oh, mon Dieu ! nothing can be more simple. You live 
on your estate, and appear to be satisfied with your golden medi- 
ocrity. Porthos has perhaps fifty or sixty thousand livres of 
rent. Aramis has always fifteen duchesses^^ who dispute for 


140 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


the abbé as they did for the Musketeer ; he is a spoiled child 
of Fortune. But what am 1 doing in this world ? 1 have worn 

my cuirass and bulf coat for twenty years, chained down to this 
low and unsatisfactory rank, nor advancing, nor retrograding, 
nor even living. I may be said to be dead. Well, when there 
is a chance of my reviving in some measure, you all say to me : 

^ A sordid fellow ! a rascal ! a cur ! a bad master ! ^ Ah, ])arbleu ! 

I am of your opinion ; but find me a better, or show me some 
means of procuring a larger income.’^ 

Athos reflected for three seconds, and in those three seconds 
he understood the game of D’Artagnan, who, finding that he had 
advanced too far, was now retreating to conceal his play. He 
saw clearly that the propositions D’Artagnan had made were 
genuine, and would have been fully developed had he lent a 
willing ear to them. Good ! ’’ said he to himself ; D’Arta- 
gnan belongs to Mazarin.” And from this moment Athos was 
extremely guarded. 

On his side D’Artagnan played a closer game than ever. j 
But, after all,” continued Athos, yon have some idea, | 
have you not?” I 

Yes, certainly ; I wished to consult you all, and to devise | 
some means of doing something ; for, if disunited, we shall j 
never be efficient.” 

“ There I agree with you. You mentioned Porthos. Have 
you persuaded him to try his fortune ? I thought that he had 
acquired it already.” 

‘Wes, he has ; but man is so constituted that he always wants 
something.” ^ 

“ And what does Porthos want ? ” 

“ To be a baron.” 

“ Ah, it is true — I forgot,” said Athos, laughing. j 

“ It is true,” thought D’Artagnan ; “ and how did he learn 
that ? Does he correspond with Aramis ? If I knew that, 

I should know everything.” 

Here the conversation terminated, for at that moment Baoul 
entered. Athos wished to scold him gently ; but the young man 
was so distressed that he had not the courage to do it ; and 
instead of it inquired what was the matter. 

ÎS your little neighbour worse ?” asked D’Artagnan. 

“ Ah, sir,” re]:b‘ed Raoul, almost choked with grief, “ her fall 
is very serious ; and che surgeon fears that without any appar- 
ent deformity she may be lame for life.” 


ATHOS'S DIPLOMACY. 


141 


That would be very dreadful,” said Athos. 

D’Artagnan had a joke at the end of his lips, but perceiving 
how Athos was affected by this misfortune he controlled himself. 

‘‘ Ah, sir, what more than drives me to despair,” said Raoul, 
‘‘ is that the misfortune was caused by me.” 

How so, Raoul ? ” inquired Athos. 

“ Because she jumped from the fagot in order to come to me.” 

“ Only one resource remains, my dear Raoul,” said D’Arta- 
gnan, and that is to marry her by way of expiation.” 

Ah, sir,” said Raoul, you laugh at real sorrow ; that is not 
right.” 

And Raoul, who wanted to be alone to weep uninterruptedly, 
went to his room, from which he did not return till breakfast- 
time. 

The harmony of the two friends had not been in the least 
altered by the morning’s skirmish. They therefore breakfasted 
with the best of appetites, from time to time looking at poor 
Raoul, who, with tearful eyes and full heart, ate scarcely any- 
thing. 

When breakfast was finished, two letters were brought in, 
which Athos read with great attention, without being able to 
avoid starting two or three times. 

D’Artagnan, who with his keen eyes was watching him from 
the other end of the table, could have sworn that he recognised 
the handwriting of Aramis. The other was in a woman’s hand, 
long and confused. 

D’Artagnan, seeing that Athos wished to be alone either to 
reply to the letters or think them over, said, Come, Raoul, let 
us take a turn in the fencing-room ; it will amuse you.” 

The young man looked at Athos, who gave a nod of assent. 

They entered a low room, where they found foils, masques, 
gloves, breastplates, and all the accessories for fencing. 

Well ? ” said Athos, coming in a quarter of an hour after- 
wards. 

He already has your hand, my dear Athos,” said D’Arta- 
gnan ; and had he acquired your coolness I should have 
nothing but compliments to make ’ him ” — 

The youth himself was rather out of countenanfee ; for one or 
two hits which he had made on D’Artagnan’s arm or thigh, he 
had been buttoned twenty times full on the body. 

At this moment Chariot entered with a letter of great con- 
sequence for D’Artagnan, which a messenger had just brought. 


142 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


It was now Athos’s turn to look out of the corner of his 
eye. 

D’Artagnan perused the letter without betraying the slightest 
emotion ; and after having read it, slightly shaking his head — 

‘‘ There, my dear friend,” said he, see what it is to be in 
the service. Faith, you have good reason not to wish to resume 
it ! M. de Tréville is ill, and the company cannot do without 
me, so that my leave of absence is.expired.” 

Do you return to Paris ? ” said Athos quickly. 

Yes, certainly,” replied D’Artagnan ; are you not coming 
too ? ” 

Athos coloured slightly and said, If I should go, I should | 
be very happy to see you there.” 

Hallo, Planchet,” cried D’Artagnan from the door, we 
shall be off in ten minutes. Give the horses some oats.” 
Then turning to Athos : Methinks I miss something here, 
and I am very sorry to leave you without seeing our worthy i 
Grirnaud.” 

Grirnaud ! ” said Athos. Ah, that is true ; I was sur- 
prised you did not ask after him before. I have lent him to one 
of my friends ” — 

‘‘Who will understand his signs?” asked D’Artagnan. 

“ I hope so,” replied Athos. 

The two friends embraced with great affection. D’Arta- 
gnan pressed Raoul’s hand, made Athos promise that he would ! 
visit him if he went to Paris and write if he did not go, and ! 
then mounted his horse. Planchet, always in time, was already i 
mounted. i 

“ Are you not coming with me ?” said D’Artagnan to Raoul, 
with a smile ; “ I pass through Blois.” 

Raoul turned towards Athos, who kept him back by an im- 
perceptible sign. 

“ No, sir,” replied the youth ; “ I remain with the Count.” 

“ In that case, farewell to both of you, my good friends,” 
said D’Artagnan, giving their hands a last squeeze, “ and God 
preserve you ! as we said whenever we parted, in the time of 
the late Cardinal.” 

Athos made a sign with his hand, Raoul bowed, and D’Arta- 
gnan and Planchet departed. 

The Count followed them with his eyes, his hand resting on 
the shoulder of the youth, who almost equalled him in height. 
But as soon as they had disappeared behind the wall — 


M. DE BEAUFORT. 


143 


Kaoul,” said the Count, we start for Paris this evening.’’ 

What ? ” said the youth, growing pale. 

Yoii may go and offer my adieus and your own to Madame 
St. Pemy. I shall expect you here at seven o’clock.” 

The young man bowed with a mingled expression of sorrow 
and gratitude, and left the house to saddle his horse. 

Scarcely was D’Artagnan out of sight before he drew his 
letter from his pocket and read it again : ' 

Return immediately to Paris. 

‘‘ The letter is dry enough, certainly,” murmured D’Arta- 
gnan ; ‘‘ and if there was not a postscript, perhaps I should not 
have understood it ; but fortunately there is one.” 

And he read this famous postscript, which made him excuse 
the dryness of the letter : 

P.S. — Go to the royal treasurer at Blois. Give your name 
and show him this letter ^ and you will receive two hundred 
2nstoles.^^ 

Decidedly,” said D’Artagnan. I admire this style of prose. 
The- Cardinal writes better than I thought. Come, Planchet, 
let us pay a visit to the King’s treasurer, and then push for- 
ward.” 

^‘Toward Paris, sir ?” 

Yes, toward Paris.” 

And they set off at full speed. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

M. DE BEAUFORT. 

Listen now to what had happened and why D’Artagnan’s 
return to Paris was necessary. 

One evening when Mazarin was going to pay the Queen his 
customary visit at the time when every one had retired to rest, 
on passing a door of the guard-room that opened into the ante- 
chamber he heard some loud talking; and wishing to know 
what the soldiers were saying, he went on tiptoe up to the 
door, which was ajar, and putting his head close to it listened 
attentively. 

There was a dispute among the guards. 


144 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


And I will answer for it,” said one of them, ‘‘ that if 
Coysel has foretold this, the thing is as certain as if it had 
already taken place. I do not know him myself; but I have 
heard say that he is not only an astrologer, but a magician.” 

Hang it ! my dear, if he is one of your friends, take care ; 
you are doing him a great injury.” 

‘‘ How so ? ” 

Because he may be indicted for it.” 

Ah, ha ! they do not burn sorcerers nowadays.” 

No ! And yet I fancy it is not long since the late Cardinal 
burnt Urbain Grandier. I know one thing, that I was one of 
the guards at his stake, and saw him roasted.” 

‘‘ My dear, Urbain Grandier was not a sorcerer, but a learned 
man, which is quite another thing. Urbain Grandier did not 
predict the future, but knew the past, which is often much i 
worse.” 

Mazarin nodded his head in token of assent ; but wishing to ; 
learn the prediction they were discussing, he remained in his | 
place. I 

I do not say,” continued the guard, that Coysel is not a j 
sorcerer ; but what I say is, that if he publishes his prediction, | 
it is a sure means of preventing its accomplishment.” ] 

a Why 9 j 

“ The thing is clear. If you and I fight, for instance, and I 
tell you, ‘ Now I shall give you a direct thrust, or a back- 
handed one,’ of course you will parry them naturally enough. 
Well, then, if Coysel says openly, so that the Cardinal may 
hear it, ‘Before such a day such and such a prisoner will 
escape,’ it is plain enough that the Cardinal will take his pre- 
cautions so effectually that the prisoner will not escape.” I 

“ Ah, my God ! ” said another, who appeared to have been | 
sleeping on a bench, but who, in spite of his apparent sleep, 
had not lost one word of the conversation, — ‘ and do you think j 
that men can avoid their fate ? If it is written on high that 1 
the Due de Beaufort must escape, the Due de Beaufort will ( 
escape, and all the Cardinal’s precautions will be unavailing.” 

Mazarin started. He was an Italian — consequently super- j 
stitious. 

He walked hastily into the midst of the guards, who, on I 
seeing him, broke off their conversation. I 

“ What were you saying, gentlemen ? ” inquired he, in his 
insinuating tone, — ‘ that M. de Beaufort had escaped, 1 believe.” ! 


M. DE BEAUFORT. 


145 


No, monsignor,” answered the incredulons soldier. At pres- 
ent he is in safe custody. We were saying that he would escape.’^ 

‘‘ And who says so ? ” 

Come, repeat your tale, St. Laurent,” said the guard, turn- 
ing toward the narrator. 

‘‘ Monsignor,” said the guard, I was simply stating to these 
gentlemen that I had heard of a prediction of a certain Coysel, 
who pretends that however strictly M. de Beaufort may be 
guarded, he will escape before Whitsuntide.” 

“ And this Coysel is a dreamer — a madman ? ” said the Cardi- 
nal, still smiling. 

No,” said the guard, resolute in his credulity ; he has fore- 
told many things which have happened : as, for example, that 
the Queen would have a son ; that M. de Coligny would be 
killed in a duel by the Due de Guise; and, lastly, that the 
coadjutor would be a cardinal. Well, the Queen has not only 
had one son, but another two years later ; and M. de Coligny 
was killed.” 

Yes,” said Mazarin, “ but the coadjutor is not yet a cardinal.” 

No, monsignor,” said the guard, “ but he will be one.” 

Mazarin made a grimace, as much as to say, He has not the 
biretta yet.” Then he added : So your opinion is, my friend, 
that M. de Beaufort will escape ? ” 

It is so much my decided opinion, monsignor,” replied the 
soldier, “ that if your Eminence were this very moment to offer 
me M. de Chavigny’s situation of governor of the Chateau of 
Vincennes, I would not accept it. Oh ! the day after Whitsun- 
tide, it would be quite another thing.” 

Nothing is more convincing than complete conviction ; it influ- 
ences even the incredulous ; and far from being incredulous, 
Mazarin was superstitious, as we have said. He therefore 
'"retired, quite pensive. 

The stingy dog ! ” said the guard who was leaning against 
the wall. “ He pretends not to believe your magician, St. 
Laurent, that he may not have to give you anything; but he 
will no sooner have reached his own room than he will take 
advantage of your prediction.”' 

In fact, instead of continuing his way toward the Queen’s 
room, Mazarin returned to his cabinet, and calling Bernouin, he 
ordered him, at break of day, to send for the life-guardsman 
whom he had placed over M. de Beaufort ; hç also wished to 
be awakened on his arrival, 


146 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Without suspecting it, the guard had touched Mazarin’s ten- j 
derest point. M. de Beaufort had been five years in prison, and 
there was not a day that Mazarin did not think that he would i 
escape at some time or other. It was impossible to keep the I 
grandson of Henry IV. in prison during his whole life, espe- ] 
daily when this grandson of Henry IV. was scarcely thirty years ! 
old. But however he might escape, what an accumulation of j 
hatred must he have heaped up, during his captivity, against \ 
the author of it ! — who had taken him — rich, brave, and illus- j 
trious, beloved by the women, feared by the men — to cut off i 
the brightest years of his life ; for a man in prison scarcely 
lives. In the meantime Mazarin redoubled his vigilance around 
M. de Beaufort. Only he was like the miser in the fable, who 
could not sleep near his treasure. Often, in the night, he awoke | 
with a start, dreaming that they had stolen M. de Beaufort 
from him. Then he sent to inquire about him ; and at every 
report he had the sorrow to hear that the prisoner played, 
drank, sang, in marvellous spirits ; but that, while playing, 
drinking, and singing, he often left off to swear that Mazarin ! 
should pay dearly for all the pleasure that he compelled him 
to enjoy at Vincennes, 

This idea had filled the CardinaPs mind during his sleep. 
Therefore, when Bernouin entered his chamber at seven in the 
morning to awake him, his first inquiry was ; 

What is the matter ? Has M. de Beaufort escaped from 
Vincennes ? ” 

I do not think he has, mon signor,” replied Bernouin, whose 
official calmness was never ruffled ; “ but at all events you will 
soon hear something about him, for La Ramée, the life-guards- 
man for whom they sent this morning to Vincennes, is waiting 
your Eminence’s commands.” 

“ Show him up,” -said Mazarin, arranging his pillows so that 
hç might receive him sitting up in bed. 

The officer entered. He was a tall, fat, chubby-cheeked, 
good-looking man, and had such an air of tranquillity that 
Mazarin was quite frightened. 

That rascal looks like a fool,” murmured he. 

The officer remained standing silent at the door. 

“ Come in, sir,” said Mazarin. 

The officer obeyed. 

Do you know what is said here ? ” inquired the Cardinal. 

No, your Eminence.” 


JL DE BEAUFORT. 


147 


“ Why, they say that M. de Beaufort is going to escape from 
Vincennes, if he has not done it already.” 

The officer’s face expressed the most profound astonishment. 
He opened his little eyes and his large mouth at the same time, 
so that he might the more easily absorb the pleasantry which 
his Eminence did him the honour to indulge iu. Then, being no 
longer able to maintain his gravity at such a supposition, he 
burst out into such a paroxysm of laughter that his fat limbs 
were shaken as if by a violent access of fever. 

Mazarin was quite delighted at this ebullition, although it 
was not very respectful ; but nevertheless he remained impene- 
trably grave himself. 

When La Ramée had laughed heartily and wiped his eyes, 
he began to think that it was time for him to speak, and to 
make some apology for his breach of decorum. 

“ Escape, monsignor ? ” said he, ‘‘ escape ? Why, your Emi- 
nence cannot know where M. de Beaufort is.” 

“ Yes, sir ; I know that M. de Beaufort is in the prison of 
Vincennes.” 

Yes, your Excellence, in a room the walls of which are 
seven feet thick, with iron-grated windows, the cross-bars of 
which are as thick as my arm.” 

Sir,” said Mazarin, with ]3atience any wall may be broken 
through ; and a bar may be sawn asunder by a watch-spring.” 

But your Excellence does not know that there are eight 
guards near him, — four in his antechamber and four in his 
room, — and that these guards never leave him.” 

“But he leaves his chamber — he plays at mall and at 
tennis.” 

“ Monsignor, these amusements are permitted among the 
})risoners ; yet if your Eminence wishes it, they can be stopped.” 

“ No, no,” said Mazarin, who feared that if he retrenched 
liis pleasures the prisoner, should he ever escape, would be 
still more exasperated against him ; “ I only want to know who 
plays with him.” 

“ Moiisignor, he plays with the officer on guard, or with my- 
self, or with the other prisoners.” 

“ But does he not go near the walls when he plays ? ” 

“ Does not your Eminence know these walls ? They are sixty 
feet high ; and I doubt whether M. de Beaufort be sufficiently 
tired of life to run the hazard of breaking his neck by jumping 
from the top to the bottom.” 


148 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ Hum ! ” said the Cardinal, who began to regain his coii^^, 
dence. You say, then, my dear M. la Kamée ” — 

That unless M. de Beaufort should find some means of 
cdianging himself into a little bird, I will answer for him.’’ 

Take care ! You are very confident,” replied Mazarin. 

‘‘ M. de Beaufort told the guards who were conducting him 
to Vincennes that he had often thought of the chance of being 
imprisoned, and that, in that case, he had found out forty 
methods of escape.” 

Monsignor, if, among these forty methods, there had been 
one practicable,” replied La Bamée, depend upon it he would 
have been long since out of prison.” 

“ Come, come — not such a fool as I thought,” murmured 
Mazarin. 

“ Besides, monsignor forgets that M. de Chavigny is gov- 
ernor of Vincennes,” continued La Eamée, ‘^and that M. de 
Chavigny is no friend of M. de Beaufort.” 

“ Yes ; but M. de Chavigny is sometimes absent.” 

“ When he is absent I am there.” 

But when you are absent yourself ? ” 

Oh, when I am absent I have in my place a fellow who 
aspires to become one of his Majesty’s officers, and who, I 
promise you, keeps a good lookout. In the three weeks since 
I have taken him into my service I have only one complaint 
to make against him, and that is, that he is too harsh to the 
prisoner.” 

‘‘ And who is this Cerberus ? ” inquired the Cardinal. 

A certain M. Grimaud, your Excellence.” 

And what was he before he came to you at Vincennes ? ” 

‘‘ Well, he lived in the provinces, as the person who recom- 
mended him informed me. He got into some scrape, owing to 
his obstinacy, and would not, I fancy, be sorry to secure impu- 
nity under the King's uniform.” 

And who recommended this man to you ? ” 

“ The Duke de Grammont’s steward.” 

Then you think he may be trusted ? ” 

As completely as myself, monsignor.” 

He is no babbler, is he ? ” 

Great heavens, monsignor, I thought for a long time he was 
dumb ! He speaks and answers only by signs. It appears that 
his old master trained him to it.” « 

Well then, tell him, my dear M. la Eamée, that if he is a^ 


HOW M. OE BE AT FORT AMIJ.^ED HIMSELF. 153 


and holding between his forepaws a small cane nsed for beah 
ing clothes, he began to go down the line with all the contor- 
tions made by a rope-dancer ; then, having gone up and down 
the Ime two or three times, he gave the stick back to M. de 
Beaufort, and began to perform the same evolutions, without a 
counterweight. 

* The intelligent animal was overwhelmed with applause. 

The spectacle was divided into three parts. The first being 
finished, the second began. 

The question now was to tell what o’clock it was. M. de 
Chavigny showed Pistache his watch — it was half-past six. 

Pistache raised and lowered his paw six times, and at the 
seventh kept his paw suspended in the air. It was impossible 
to be plainer — a sun-dial could not have answered better ; and, 
as every one knows, a sun-dial has the disadvantage of not being 
able to tell the hour except when the sun shines. 

Then the dog’s next trick wa^to point out before the whole 
company the best jailer of all the prisons in Prance. 

The dog made the tour of the circle, and went and laid him- 
self down, in the most respectful manner, at M. de Chavigny’s 
feet. 

M. de Chavigny pretended to think it an excellent joke, and 
laughed heartily ; but when he had finished laughing, he bit 
his lips and began to frown. 

At last M. de Beaufort put this most difficult question to 
Pistache : Who is the greatest thief in the known world ? ” 

Pistache now went round the room ; he did not stop before 
any one, but going to the door began to scratch and whine. 

You see, gentlemen,” said the Prince, this interesting ani- 
mal, not finding what I asked for here, goes to look for it out 
of the room. But never mind, you shall not lose his answer 
on that account. Pistache, my friend,” continued the Duke, 
“come here.” 

The dog obeyed. 

“ The greatest known thief in the known world,” said the 
Prince ; “ let us see. Is it M. Camus, the King’s secretary, who 
came to Paris with twenty livres, and is now worth ten mill- 
ions ? ” 

The dog shook his head. 

“Is it,” continued the Prince, “ M. d’ Emery, the superin- 
tendent, who gave to M. Thore, his son, on his marriage, an 
income of three hundred thousand livres, and an hôtel in 


154 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


comparison of wliicli the Tuileries is a hovel and the Louvre 
a hut ? ’’ 

The dog again shook his head. 

“ What, is it not he ? ” continued the Prince. Coin^, we 
must inquire further. Can it by chance be that illustrissimo 
facchino, Mazarini di Piscina ? ” 

Pistache made a most energetic sign of assent, by raising 
and nodding his head eight or ten times. 

There, gentlemen,” said M. de Beaufort to his auditors, who 
this time dared show no signs of laughter, ‘^you perceive that 
the illustrissimo facchino, Mazarini di Piscina, is the greatest 
thief in the known world — at least. Pistache says so.” 

Let us, however, proceed to another exercise.” 

Gentlemen,” continued the Duke of Beaufort, taking advan- 
tage of the complete silence which now reigned to give a sort of 
programme of the third act of this drama, “ you may remember 
that the Due de Guise taught All the dogs in Paris to leap for 
Mademoiselle de Pons, whom he proclaimed as the fairest of 
the fair. Well, gentlemen, that was nothing; for those dogs 
obeyed mechanically, not knowing how to make any dissidence 
[M. de Beaufort meant to say difference] between those for 
whom they ought to leap and those for whom they ought not 
to leap. Pistache will show you and the governor that he is ‘ 
far superior to his brethren. M. de Chavigny, will you have 
the goodness to lend me your cane ? ” 

M. de Chavigny gave his cane to M. de Beaufort, who placed 
it horizontally about a foot from the ground. 

“ Pistache, my friend,” said he, do me the pleasure to leap 
for Madame de Montbazon.” 

Every one laughed. It was known that at the time of his 
arrest the Due de Beaufort was Madame de Montbazon’s 
declared lover. 

Pistache made not the slightest objection, but leaped gayly 
over the cane. 

“ But,” said M. de Chavigny, it appears to me that Pis- 
tache does exactly the same thing as his brethren when they 
leaped for Mademoiselle de Pons.” 

“Wait,” said the Prince. 

“ Pistache, my friend,” he continued, “ leap for the Queen.” 

And he raised the cane six inches higher. The dog leaped 
respectfully over the cane. 


i 



PISTACHE, MY FRIEND, DO ME THE PLEASURE TO LEAP.” 








BOW M. DE BEAU FOUT AMUSED HIMSELF. 155 


“ Pistache, my friend,” continued the Duke, raising the cane 
six inches higher still, “ leap for the King.” 

The dog took a spring, and, in spite of its height, leaped 
lightly over the cane. 

“ And now, attention ! ” continued the Duke, lowering the 
cane almost even with the ground. Leap for the illustrissimo 
facchino, Mazarini di Piscina.” 

The dog turned his tail to the cane. ’ 

Hallo ! what does this mean ? ” cried M. de Beaufort, 
describing half a circle from the tail to the head of the dog, 

\ and again placing the cane before him ; come, leap, M. Pis- 
tache.” 

} But Pistache, as before, turned half round, presenting his 

• tail to the cane. 

M. de Beaufort performed the same manoeuvre and repeated 
the same words ; but this time Pistache’s patience appeared to 
be exhausted ; he threw himself with fury on the cane, tore it 
from the Prince’s hands, and broke it with his teeth. 

M. de Beaufort took the pieces from his mouth, and with 
great gravity restored them to M. de Chavigny, making many 
excuses, and informing him that the amusements were finished, 
but that if he wished to attend another representation, in three 
months Pistache should have acquired some fresh accomplish- 
ments. 

Three days afterwards Pistache was poisoned. 

The culprit was sought for, but, as may be supposed, re- 
mained undiscovered. M. de Beaufort caused a tomb to be 
raised to him, with this epitaph : 

Here lies Pistache, one of the most intelligent dogs that 
ever lived '^ 

Nothing could be said against this eulogium ; M. de Chavigny 
could not prevent it. 

Then the Duke openly declared that the trial of the drug 
meant for himself had been made on his dog, and one day after 
dinner he went to bed, crying out that he had the colic, and 

• that Mazarin had caused him to be poisoned. 

This fresh prank reached the Cardinal’s ears and terrified 
him greatly. The prison of Vincennes was considered very 
unhealthy ; Madame de Rambouillet had said that the room 
where Puylaurens, the Marshal Ornano, and the Prior of Ven- 
dôme had died was worth its weight in arsenic ; and the saying 
went the rounds. Mazarin therefore gave orders that the 


156 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


prisoner should, for the future, eat nothing that had not before 
been tasted ; and it was then that La Ramée, the officer, had 
been placed near him as a taster. 

But M. de Chavigny had not yet pardoned the Duke for the 
impertinences which the innocent Pistache had expiated. M. 
de Chavigny was one of the late Cardinal’s creatures ; it was 
even said that he was his son. So he may well have been 
somewhat a connoisseur in tyranny ; and he set about repaying 
M. de Beaufort’s impudence. He took away from him what 
steel knives and silver forks had been hitherto allowed him, 
and gave him silver knives and wooden forks. M. de Beaufort 
complained ; but M. de Chavigny sent word that he had just 
learnt that the Cardinal, having told Madame de Vendôme 
that her son was imprisoned at Vincennes for life, feared the 
prisoner, on hearing such melancholy intelligence, might make 
an attempt at suicide. A fortnight after, M. de Beaufort 
found two long rows of trees, about as thick as a man’s thumb, 
planted in the road that led to the tennis-ground ; and when he 
inquired what this meant, he was told that it was to give him 
shade at some future day. One morning, also, the gardener 
came to him, and, under pretence of obliging him, told him that 
he was going to plant some asparagus beds for him. Now, as 
every one knows, asparagus at the present day takes four years 
before it can be available ; but at that period, in the infancy of 
gardening, it took five years ; and this civility put M. de Beau- 
fort in a great rage. 

Then M. de Beaufort thought that it was time to have 
recourse to one of his forty methods ; and he tried the most 
simple first, which was to corrupt La Ramée ; but La Ramée 
had purchased his present appointment for fifteen hundred 
crowns, and much valued his situation. Therefore, instead of 
entering into the prisoner’s views, he went and informed M. de 
Chavigny. M. de Chavigny immediately placed eight men in 
the Prince’s apartment, doubled the sentinels, and tripled their 
posts. From this time the Prince always marched like a stage 
king with four men before and four behind him, without reck- 
oning those who marched alongside of him. 

M. de Beaufort was, at first, much amused at this severity, 
which distracted his mind. He repeated continually : This 
amuses me — this diversifies me.” M. de Beaufort meant to 
say, “ This diverts me ; ” but, as we know, he did not always 
say what he meant. Then he added, ‘‘ When I wish to with- 


HOW M. DE BEAUFORT AMUSED HIMSELF. 157 


draw myself from the honours you pay me, I haTe still thirty- 
nine other methods.” 

But this distraction at last became annoying. Out of brag- 
gadocio, M. de Beaufort bore it for six months ; but at the end 
. of six months, always seeing eight men sit down when he sat 
y down, rising when he arose, and stopping when he stopped, he 
began to frown and to count the days. 

This fresh persecution produced a greater asperity of hatred 
against Mazarin. The Prince swore night and morning, talking 
of nothing but the amputation of the Mazarin ears. It was 
frightful. The Cardinal, who knew everything that was going 
on at Vincennes, drew his nightcap down to his neck. 

One day M. de Beaufort mustered all the jailers, and in 
spite of his difficulties in elocution, which had become pro- 
verbial, he made them a speech, which, to say the truth, had 
been prepared beforehand. 

Gentlemen,” said he, will you allow the grandson of the 
I., good King Henry IV. to be soaked with outrages and ignobilies 
? [he meant to say ignominies]. Ventre-saint-gris ! as my grand- 
father said, I have almost reigned in Paris. Do you know I 
kept guard over the King and monsieur a whole day ? The 
Queen favoured me then, and called me the honestest man in 
the realm. Gentlemen citizens, liberate me now and I will 
‘ go straight to the Louvre. I will wring Mazarin’s neck. You 
' shall be my body-guards. I will make you all officers and 
give you good pensions. Ventre-saint-gris ! forward, march ! ” 

But, pathetic as it was, the eloquence of the grandson 
of Henry IV. did not touch those stony hearts ; not one stirred 
a step ; which, when M. de Beaufort saw, he told them that 
They were all beggarly fellows, and made them his invet- 
erate enemies. 

Sometimes, when M. de Chavigny came to see him, which he 
did not fail to do two or three times a week, the Duke took 
‘ advantage of this to threaten him. 

: What would you do, sir,” said he, if one fine day you 

f saw an army of Parisians coming barbed with iron and brist- 
\ ling with muskets to liberate me ? ” 

Monseigneur,” replied M. de Chavigny, bowing most pro- 
foundly to the Prince, I have twenty pieces of artillery on 
the ramparts and thirty thousand shots in my casemates. I 
should cannonade them as well as I coiOu ’ 

Yes ; but when you had fired your linrty thousand shots 


158 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


they would take the prison ; and that being taken, I should be 
obliged to let them hang you, for which I shoidd certainly be 
very sorry.” 

And in his turn the Prince bowed most politely to M. de 
Chavigny. 

But, monseigneur,” replied M. de Chavigny, at the 
instant the first scoundrel should pass the threshold of my 
doors or set his foot on the ramparts I should be compelled, 
much to my regret, to kill you with my own hand, seeing that 
you are intrusted particularly to me, and that I must give an 
account of you, dead or alive.” 

And he again bowed to his Highness. 

‘‘ Yes,” continued the Duke ; “ but as, most certainly, these 
good fellows would not come here before they had entertained 
M. Julio Mazarini with a little hanging, you would take special 
good care not to lay hands on me ; and you would let me 
live, for fear of being torn to pieces wdth horses by the Pari- 
sians; that is far more disagreeable than being hanged, do 
you see ? ” 

These bitter-sweet pleasantries lasted sometimes ten, some- 
times fifteen, sometimes even twenty minutes, but always 
finished in this manner : 

M. de Chavigny, turning to the door, — 

“ Hallo ! La Eamée,” he cried. 

La Eamée entered. 

La Eamée,” continued M. de Chavigny, I recommend M. 
de Beaufort most particularly to your care ; treat him with the 
consideration due to his name and his rank, and do not lose 
sight of him for one single moment.” 

Then he retired, saluting M. de Beaufort with an ironical 
politeness which made the Prince turn purple with rage. 

La Eamée had, therefore, become M. de Beaufort’s chum, 
his eternal guardian, his very shadow. But, to say the truth, 
the society of La Eamée — a jolly fellow, a free liver, a de- 
termined lover of the bottle, a great tennis-player, a good 
creature at heart, and having only one fault in M. de Beau- 
fort’s eyes, that he was incorruptible — was rather an amuse- 
ment than an annoyance to the Prince. 

Unfortunately this feeling was not reciprocated by Master 
la Eamée ; and although he considered it a great honour to be 
shut up with a prisoner of siudi vast importance, the pleasure 
of living uu terms of familiarity with the grandson of Henry 


GRIMAUD GOES ON DUTY. 


159 


IV. did not compensate for that which he would have experi- 
enced from occasionally visiting his own family. 

A man may serve the King excellently well, and, at the 
same time, be a good father and a good husband. Now, Mas- 
ter la Ramée adored his wife and children, whom he could 
only see from the top of the wall when they came to walk on 
the other side of the trenches to afford him this conjugal and 
paternal consolation. It was too much for him ; and La 
Ramée found that his joyous disposition, which he had con- 
sidered the cause of his good health, without calculating that 
it was probably only the result of it, would not hold out long 
against such a manner of living. This conviction grew 
stronger when, by degrees, the relations between M. de 
Beaufort and M. de Chavigny became more and more 
strained and they never met. La Ramée then found the 
responsibility pressing more heavily on his head ; and as of 
course he sought for some relief, he received most cordially 
the offer made to him by his friend, the Marshal de Gram- 
mont’s steward, to give him an assistant. He had therefore 
consulted M. de Chavigny on the subject, who informed him 
that he had no objection whatever to it, provided the appli- 
cant was approved of by him. 

We consider it perfectly unnecessary to give our readers 
the physical and moral portrait of Grimaud. If, as we hope, 
they have not entirely forgotten the first part of this work, 
they must have retained a clear recollection of that estimable 
person, who had undergone no other change than the addition 
of twenty years to his age, an acquisition which had only made 
him more taciturn, although, since the alteration in his own 
manners, Athos had given him full liberty of speech. 

But at the period Grimaud had been silent for twelve or 
fifteen years ; and a habit of twelve or fifteen years becomes a 
second nature. 


CHARTER XX- 

GRIMAUD GOES ON DUTY. 

Grimaud therefore entered the prison r ' V < .es under 
the most fa vourabh; auspices • - ‘‘a vigny piqued himself 
on possessing an infallible eye, wnich might give weight to the 
belief that he was really the son of Cardinal Richelieu, who 


160 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


had always laid claim to this faculty. He therefore examined | 
the applicant with great attention, and fancied that Hri- j 
maud’s bushy eyebrows, thin lips, hooked nose, and high cheek- j 
bones were perfect indications. He spoke only twelve words ^ 
to him: Grimaud answered by four. ; 

There is an invaluable fellow. I thought so at first sight,” 
said M. de Chavigny. Go and make your terms with La i 
Lamée, and tell him that you suit me exactly.” 

Grimaud turned upon his heels and went to undergo the far i 
more rigorous examination of La Eamée. What made him j 
more particular was that he knew that M. de Chavigny 
depended upon him, and he wished to be able to depend upon 
Grimaud. 

Grimaud had precisely the qualities to seduce a life-guardsman 
who wished for a deputy. Therefore, after a thousand ques- 
tions which produced exactly one-quarter the number of answers. 
La Eamée, enchanted by this sobriety in speech, rubbed his 
hands and enlisted Grimaud. 

Your instructions ? ” said Grimaud. 

The following : Never leave the prisoner alone ; deprive 
him of every sharp dr pointed instrument; and prevent his 
making any sign to people without or talking too long with his 
guards.” 

“ Is that all ? ” inquired Grimaud. 

‘‘All for the present,” answered La Eamée. “ Fresh circum- 
stances will, of course, require fresh instructions.” 

“ Good ! ” replied Grimaud. 

And he went to M. de Beaufort’s apartment. 

He was engaged in combing his beard which, as well as his 
hair, he had allowed to grow, to make good his game against 
Mazarin, by displaying his misery and making a show of hi^ 
wretched appearance. But as some days before he had fancied 
that he saw from the tops of the ramparts the beautiful 
Madame de Montbazon in a carriage, and as her memory was 
still dear to him, he did not wish to appear before her in the 
same light as before Mazarin. He had, therefore, in the hope 
of again seeing her, demanded a leaden comb, which had been 
granted him. 

M. de Beaufort had asked for. a leaden comb because, like all 
fair men, his beard was rather red. He thus colored his beard 
while he combed it. ^ 

Grimaud, on entering, saw the comb, which the Prince had 


GRIMAUD GOES ON DUTY. 


161 


just placed on the table. He took it up, at the same time 
making a bow. 

The Duke looked with astonishment at this strange figure. 

The figure put the comb into his pocket. 

“ Hallo ! What does this mean ? ’’ cried the Duke ; and who 
is this rascal ? ” 

Grimaud did not answer, but bowed a second time. 

Are you dumb ? ” inquired the Duke. 

Grimaud made a sign that he was not. 

“ Who are you, then ? Answer, I command you,” cried the 
Duke. 

‘‘ A keeper,” replied Grimaud. 

A keeper ! ” exclaimed the Duke. Well, this hangdog 
was only wanted to complete my collection. Hallo, there ! La 
Kamée, or some one ! ” 

La Hamée, being thus called for, ran up hastily. Unfortu- 
nately for the Prince, having confided his charge to Grimaud, 
he was just going to set off for Paris, was already in the court- 
yard, and turned back most unwillingly. 

‘‘ What is the matter. Prince ? ” he asked. 

“ Who is this rascal who takes my comb and puts it into his 
pocket ? ” demanded M. de Beaufort. 

He is one of your guards, monseigneur ; a fellow of infi- 
nite merit, you will appreciate him equally with M. de Chavigny 
and myself.” 

But why does he take my comb ? ” 

“ Ah, yes,” said La Earnee, why did you take monseigneur’s 
comb ? ” 

Grimaud took the comb out of his pocket, passed his 
finger over it, and then looking at and pointing to the large 
^teeth, he contented himself with uttering the single word : 

Pointed ! ” 

It is true,” said La Eamée. 

What does the animal say ? ” demanded the Duke. 

“ That every pointed instrument is prohibited by the King, 
monseigneur.” 

Ah ! are you mad. La Eamée ? Why, you gave me the 
comb yourself.” 

And I was greatly to blame, monseigneur ; for in giving 
it I disobeyed orders.” 

The Duke looked furiously at Grimaud, who had given the 
comb to La Eamée. 


162 TWENTY YEARS AFTER. j 

l 

I foresee that I shall cordially detest this rascal/’ mur- j 
inured the Prince. | 

In fact, there are no moderate sentiments in a prison. Since i 
every man and everything is either your friend or your enemy, | 
you love or you hate, sometimes with reason, but oftener still 1 
by instinct. Now, by the simple process that Grimaud, at first i 
sight, was pleasing to M. de Chavigny and La Kamée, it fol- ) 
lowed that the same qualities that recommended him to the j 
governor and life-guardsman, becoming faults in the prisoner’s { 
eyes, made him instantly obnoxious to M. de Beaufort. 

Yet Grimaud did not wish, on the very first day, to unmask 
himself to the prisoner. He had need, not of a sudden repug- 
nance, but of a good, healthy, obstinate hatred. 

He therefore retired, to give place to the four guards, who, 
having finished breakfast, were to resume their office near the 
Prince. 

On his part, the Prince wished to bring to perfection a certain 
fresh joke on which he had much calculated. He had demanded 
some lobsters for his morning’s breakfast, and determined on î 
passing the day in making a small gallows to hang the finest ! 
in the middle of the room. The red colour which the boiling | 
would give it would leave no doubt as to the allusion ; and j 
thus he would have the pleasure of hanging the Cardinal in 
effigy, in expectation of having him hanged in reality, without | 
it being possible to reproach him with having hanged anything | 
but a lobster. i 

The day was passed in preparations for the execution. One 
becomes very childish in prison, and M. de Beaufort was of a 
character more likely to become so than most men. He went 
out for his usual walk, broke off two or three small branches des- 
tined to play a part in his drama, and after many researches 
found a piece of broken glass which seemed to give him the 
keenest pleasure. Having returned to his room, he unravelled 
his pocket-handkerchief. 

But none of these proceedings escaped Grimaud’s observa- 
tion. 

The next morning the gallows was ready ; and that he might 
erect it in the middle of his room, M. de Beaufort began to 
sharpen one of the ends with his piece of broken glass. 

La Kamée watched him with the curiosity of a father who 
thinks that he is about to find a fresh plaything for his chil- 
dren ; the four guards watched him with that careless unco^- 


GRIMAUD GOES ON DUTY. 


163 


cern which in all times constitutes the principal characteristic 
of a soldier’s countenance. 

Grimaud entered just as the Prince had laid the piece of 
glass down, although he had not yet quite sharpened the end 
of his gallows, but merely left off to fasten the string to its 
opposite end. 

He cast at Grimaud a glance which retained some portion of 
the ill-humour that he had conceived toward him the evening 
before ; but as he was mightily pleased with the effect which 
his new invention could not fail to have, he paid no more 
attention to him. 

Only when he had finished making a sailor’s knot at one 
end of the string and a slip-knot at the other, — when he had 
cast a glance at his dish of lobsters, and made a secret choice 
of the most majestic one, — he turned to look for his bit of 
glass : it had disappeared. 

Who has taken my piece of glass ? ” demanded the Prince 
with a frown. 

Grimaud made a sign that he had. 

“ What, you again ! — and why did you take it ? ” 

Yes,” said La Ramée, why did you take his Highness’s 
piece of glass ? ” 

Grimaud, who held the piece of glass in his hand, passed his 
finger over the edge and said : 

Sharp ! ” 

It is true, monseigneur,” said La Ramée. ‘‘ Faith ! we havr 
indeed got a most valuable fellow here ! ” 

M. Grimaud,” said the Prince, for your own sake I be- 
seech you never to come within reach of my hand.” 

Grimaud made a bow, and retired to the end of the room. 

Hush ! hush ! monseigneur,” said La Ramée ; give me 
your little gallows and I will sharpen it with my knife.” 

You ? ” said the Duke, laughing. 

Yes, I. Was it not that you wanted ? ” 

Yes, certainly. There, take it — it will be even more droll 
— take it, my dear La Ramée.” 

La Ramée, who had not the slightest idea of the cause of the 
Prince’s exclamation, sharpened the end of the gallows in the 
most skilful manner possible. 

‘‘ There,” said the Prince, now make me a small hole in the 
ground, whilst I get the culprit.” 

La Ramée put one knee to the ground and made a hole. 


164 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


In the meantime the Prince fastened his lobster to the 
string. 

Then he fixed the gallows in the middle of the room, burst- . 
ing with laughter. 

La Ramée also laughed with all his heart, without very 
well knowing why he did so, and the soldiers laughed in ' 
chorus. 

G-rimaud alone did not laugh. ^ 

He went up to La Ramée, and showing him the lobster turn- | 
ing round at the end of the string — i 

Cardinal ! ” said he. j 

Hanged by his Highness the Due de Beaufort,^’ continued 
the Prince, laughing louder than ever, and by Master J acques 
Chrysostome la Ramée, one of the King’s life-guardsmen.” 

La Ramée uttered a cry of terror and rushed at the gallows, 
which he tore from the ground and immediately broke to pieces, 
throwing the fragments out of the window. He was going to 
do the same with the lobster, so completely had he lost his 
senses, when Grimaud took it from him. j 

Good to eat ! ” said he, and put it in his pocket. j 

This time the Duke had taken so much pleasure in this scene ( 
that he almost pardoned Grimaud the part he had j^layed in it. | 
But on reflection during the day, he weighed the keeper’s mo- I 
tives, and finding that they must be bad, he felt his hatred for j 
him much increased. 1 

The story of the lobster, however, to La Ramée’s great dis- 1 
tress, made none the less a vast sensation, not only within but i 
without the prison. M. de Chavigny, who at heart detested 
the Cardinal, took care to confide the anecdote to two or three 
well-meaning friends, who instantly spread it abroad. 

This gave M. de Beaufort two or three happy days. 

In the meantime the Duke had remarked among his guards 
a man of good appearance, and he endeavoured to cajole him, 
the more willingly that Grimaud became every moment more 1 
disagreeable to him. One morning, having taken this man 
aside, and having managed to converse some time alone with 
him, Grimaud entered, observed what was passing, and ap- 
proaching the guard and the Prince with great respect, he took 
the guard by the arm. 

What do you want ? ” said the Duke, in a rough manner. 

Grimaud led the guard four steps and pointed to the door. 

Go ! ” said he. 


GRIM AUD GOES ON DUTY. 


The guard obeyed. 

“ You are absolutely intolerable,” said the Duke ; I will 
chastise you.” 

Grimaud bowed respectfully. 

“ You spy, I will break your bones ! ” cried the exasperated 
Prince. 

Grimaud bowed, at the same time retreating. 

‘‘ You spy, I will strangle you with my own hands.” 

Grimaud kept still bowing and retreating. 

And that instantly,” continued the Duke, who thought he 
had better put an end to him immediately. He stretched 
forth his hands toward Grimaud, who was quietly pushing the 
guard out and shutting the door behind him. 

At the same moment he felt the Prince’s hands fastened on 
his shoulders like a vise ; but instead of calling out or defend- 
ing himself, he gently put his forefinger to his lips and, em- 
bellishing his countenance with its most fascinating smile, 
softly uttered the word — 

Hush ! ” 

A sign, a smile, and a word were so rare with Grimaud that 
his Highness paused in utter astonishment. 

Grimaud took advantage of this moment to draw from the 
lining of his doublet a charming little note with an aristocratic 
seal, the original perfume of which had not been entirely de- 
stroyed by being long in Grimaud’s dress, and presented it to 
the Duke without saying a word. 

The Duke, more and more astonished, let go his hold of 
Grimaud, took the note, and recognising the writing : Prom 
Madame de Montbazon ! ” said he. 

Grimaud gave a nod of assent. 

The Duke tore open the envelope, drew his hand across his 
eyes, so completely was he dazzled, and read what follows : 

My dear Duke : 

“ You may trust entirely to the worthy fellow who will give 
you this letter, for he is the valet of a gentleman of our party 
who has answered for his fidelity, proved by a service of twenty 
years. He has agreed to enter into the service of your life- 
guardsman, and to shut himself up in Vincennes to assist your 
escape, about which we are now engaged. 

The moment of deliverance approaches ; be patient and 
courageous, in the assurance that in spite of time and absence. 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


all your friends have retained for you those sentiments which 
they before confessed. 

Your wholly and forever affectionate \ 

Marie de Montbazon. 

P.S. I sign at length ; for it would be too much vanity I 
to imagine that after five years* separation you would recog- , 
nise my initials.** ! 

The Duke remained for a minute utterly confounded. What | 
he had been seeking for five years without being able to find 
it, namely, a faithful servant, an assistant, a friend, had 
suddenly fallen from the heavens at the moment when he least 
expected it. He looked at Grimaud with astonishment, and 
returned to the letter, which he again read from beginning to 
end. 

Oh, dear Marie,’’ murmured he when he had finished it ; 
so it was she whom I saw in the carriage. And she still thinks 
of me, after five years of separation. Morbleu ! it is a con- 
stancy only to be found in the Astrœa.** 

Then turning to Grimaud : 

And you, my good fellow,” added he, you agree to assist 
me ? ” 

Grimaud made an assenting sign. 

And you are come here for that purpose ? ” 

Grimaud repeated the sign. 

And I was wishing to strangle you ! ” exclaimed the Duke, i 
Grimaud began to smile. 

But wait,” said the Duke. And he began to poke into his 
pocket. Wait,” continued he, renewing the fruitless search ; 

“ it shall not be said that such devotion to a grandson of Henry ; 
IV. was suffered to pass unrecompensed.” 

The Duke’s motion denoted the very best intention in the ' 
world ; but one of the precautions at Vincennes was never to 
leave money with a prisoner. 

Grimaud, seeing the Duke’s disappointment, pulled a purse 
full of gold from his pocket and gave it to him. 

This is what you are looking for,” said he. 

The Duke opened the purse, and would have emptied it into 
Grimaud’s hands, but he shook his head. 

Thanks, monseigneur,” said he, drawing back, I am paid.” 
The Duke was once more surprised. He stretched out his 


GRIMAUD GOES ON DUTY. 


167 


hand, which Griinaiid kissed respectfully. Athos’s noble man- 
ners had left their impress on his servant. 

“ And now,” said the Duke, “ what are we to do ? ” 

‘‘ It is eleven o’clock in the morning,” replied Grimaiid ; “ at 
two o’clock monseigneur must ask for a game at mall with La 
Ramée, and send two or three balls over the ramparts.” 

Well, and after that ? ” 

“ After that, monseigneur must go to the wall and call out to 
a man who is working in the moat to throw them back to you.” 

“ I understand,” said the Duke. 

Grimaud’s countenance expressed a lively satisfaction ; for 
from the slight use he habitually made of words, conversation 
was difficult to him. He made a motion as if to retire. 

Then you will not accept of anything ? ” said the Duke. 

I should like your Highness to make me a promise.” 

And what is that ? Speak.” 

It is that when we escape, I may go over the first ; for if 
monseigneur should be taken, all the risk he runs is of being 
returned to prison ; while if I be taken, the least they will do 
is to hang me.” 

That is too true,” said the Duke ; and on the word of a 
gentleman, it shall be as you have requested.” 

How,” said Grimaud, “ I have only one thing to ask mon- 
seigneur : it is that he will continue to do me the honor to 
detest me as much as he did before.” 

I will try,” replied the Duke. 

Some one rapped at the door. 

The Duke put the letter and the purse into his pocket and 
threw himself on his bed. This was known to be his great 
resource in moments of annoyance. Grimaud opened the door ; 
it was La Ramée, just come from the Cardinal, where the scene 
had passed which we have already related. 

La Ramée cast a searching glance around, and seeing all 
the symptoms of antipathy between the prisoner and his 
guard, he smiled, full of internal satisfaction. Then turning 
to Grimaud : 

‘‘ Very well, my friend, very well. You have been spoken 
of favourably in a certain place, and I hope you will soon 
receive news that will not be disagreeable to you.” 

Grimaud bowed with an air which he endeavoured to make 
gracious, and left the room, as his custom was when his supe- 
rior entered. 


168 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ Well, monseigneur,” said La Ramée, with his coarse laugh, 

so you are still annoyed at that poor fellow.” 

‘^Ah! is 'it you. La Ramée?” said the Duke. Faith, it 
was time for you to come. I threw myself on the bed and 
turned my face to the wall that I might not give way to the 
temptation of strangling that wretch, Grimaud.” 

I fear, then,” said La Ramée, making a witty allusion to 
his subordinate’s taciturnity, ^^that he has said something 
disagreeable to your Highness.” 

I think so, indeed. An Oriental mute ! I vow that it was 
time for you to return. La Ramée, and that I longed to see 
you.” 

Monseigneur is too good,” said La Ramée, flattered by the 
compliment. 

“ Yes,” said the Duke, I really feel an awkwardness to-day 
which you will be delighted to see.” 

Then shall we have a game of tennis ? ” said La Ramée 
mechanically. 

If you like.” 

I am at monseigneur’s command.” 

That is, you are a charming man,” said the Duke, and I 
almost wish to remain forever at Vincennes, for the pleasure 
of passing my life with you.” 

“ I believe, monseigneur,” said La Ramée, “ that it will not 
be the Cardinal’s fault if your wishes be not fulfilled.” 

What do you mean ? Have you seen him lately ? ” 

He sent for me this morning.” 

Really ! To talk about me ? ” 

“ What else would you expect him to talk to me about ? 
Really, your Excellence, you are his nightmare.” 

The Duke smiled bitterly. 

‘^Ah,” said he, if you would accept my offers. La Ramée.” 

‘‘Come, monseigneur, are we going to talk of that again? 
— but you must perceive that you are unreasonable.” 

“ La Ramée, I have told you, and I repeat it, that I would 
make your fortune.” 

“ With what ? You will have no sooner got out of prison 
than your property will be confiscated.” 

“ I shall no sooner be out of prison than I shall be master 
of Paris.” 

‘‘ Hush, hush ! Can I listen to such matters as these ? 
This is a pretty sort of conversation to hold with one of the 


GRIMAUD GOES ON DUTY. 


1 


King’s officers. I see plainly, monseigneur, that I muF* d 
second Grim and.” 

“ Well, then, we will say no more about it. So the •' .rdi- 
iial and you have been talking about me. La Ramée, you 
must one day let me put on your dress. I would go in your 
l)lace ; I would strangle him ; and, on the faith of a gentleman, 
if that were a condition, I would return to prison without 
compulsion.” 

Monseigneur, I see plainly that I must call Grimaud.” 

I am wrong. But what did the cuistre^ say ? ” 

What did he say ? He said that I must watch you closely. 
Monseigneur, I overlook the term, because it rhymes with min- 
istre.^^ 

And why watch me ? ” inquired the Duke, somewhat 
uneasy. 

Because an astrologer has predicted that you will escape.” 

“ Ah ! has an astrologer predicted that ? ” inquired the 
Duke, starting in spite of himself. 

‘^Oh, mon Dieu ! yes. On my word of honour those foolish 
magicians are always dreaming to torment decent folks.” 

“ And what answer did you give to his most illustrious 
Eminence ? ” 

‘‘ That if the astrologer in question made almanacs, I 
should advise him not to buy any.” 

And why ? ” 

Because to escape you must become a chaffinch or a wren.” 

Unfortunatel}^ you are quite right. Come, let us have a 
game of tennis. La E-amee.” 

Monseigneur, I beg your Highness’s pardon, but would you 
grant me half an hour ?” 

What for ? ” 

Because Monsignor Mazarini is prouder than you are, 
although not of such high birth, and he forgot to invite me 
to breakfast.” 

Do you wish me to send for your breakfast here ? ” 

Ho, monseigneur. I must tell you that the confectioner 
wlio lived opposite the chateau, and who was called Father 
Marteau ” — 

Well ? ” 

A week ago he sold his property to a Parisian confectioner 
to whom, it seems, the physicians recommended country air.” 


Vulgar fellow. 


170 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Well, what have I to do with this ? ” 

Wait a bit, monseigniire. This cursed confectioner has in 
front of his shop a pile of things which actually make one’s 
mouth water.” 

You gourmand ! ” 

^ Oh, mon Dieu ! monseigneur, one is not a gourmand because 
one likes to eat what is good. It is natural for man to seek 
for perfection in pies, as in everything else. Now, this rogue 
of^ confectioner, I must confess to you, monseigneur, when he ; 
saw me stopping before his shop, came to me, with his tongue i 
all over flour, and said : | 

^ M. la Earnee, I must have the custom of the prisoners at I 
the dungeon. I have purchased my predecessor’s establish- : 
ment, because he assured me that he supplied the chateau ; 
and yet I will give you my honour, M. la Ramée, that during 
the week that I have been here M. de Chavigny has not 
bought so much as a tartlet of me.’ 

‘‘^But,’ said I, ^perhaps M. de Chavigny fears that your 
pastry may not be good.’ 

‘‘ ‘ My pastry not good ! Well, M. la Ramée, I will make 
you the judge, and this very moment.’ 

^ I cannot,’ said I. ^ It is absolutely necessary for me to | 
return to the château.’ 

^ Well,’ said he, ^ go about your affairs, as you appear in a 
hurry, but return in half an hour.’ ] 

^ In half an hour ? ’ 

^ Yes ; have you breakfasted ? ’ 

^ Faith, I have not.’ 

^ Well, here is a pie which shall be ready for you, with a 
bottle of old Burgundy.’ And you understand, monseigneur, j 
as I am fasting, I would, with your Highness’s permission ” — i 
And la Ramée bowed. ! 

Go, then, you animal,” said the Duke ; but mark well, j 
I give you only half an hour.” | 

“ And may I promise your custom to Father Marteau’s sue- ! 
cessor, monseigneur ? ” • ! 

Yes, provided that he does not put mushrooms in his pies. 
You know that the mushrooms of the wood of Vincennes are 
deadly to my family.” I 

La Ramée left the room without taking any notice of this 
allusion, and five minutes after the officer on guard entered, I 
under the pretence of paying lioiioiir to the Prince by keeping j 


THE PIES OF FATHER MARTEAU" S SUCCESSOR. 171 


him company, but in reality to execute the commands of the 
Cardinal, who, as has been said, had given orders that they 
should never lose sight of the prisoner. 

But during the five minutes that he had been alone the Duke 
had found time to reread Madame de Montbazon’s letter, which 
proved that his friends had not forgotten him, but were busily 
employed for his deliverance. He knew not yet in what man- 
ner; but he promised himself that in spite of his taciturnity 
he would eventually make Grimaud speak. He had all the 
more confidence in him now that he understood all his con- 
duct, and realised that he had invented all those petty per- 
secutions merely in order to prevent the slightest suspicion of 
complicity between them. 

This ruse gave the Duke a high idea of Grimaud’s intellect, 
and he resolved to place implicit confidence in him. 


CHAPTER XXT. 

WHAT THE PIES OF FATHER MARTEAu’s SUCCESSOR CONTAINED. 

Half an hour after. La Ramée returned joyous and happy, 
like a man who has eaten, or rather has drunken, well. He had 
found the pies excellent and the wine delicious. 

The weather was fine, and favourable for their game. Ten- 
nis was played at Vincennes in the open air. Nothing, there- 
fore, wa^ easier than for the Duke to do what Grimaud had told 
him ; namely, to send the balls into the moat, 

Yet until the clock had struck two, the Duke was not very 
awkward ; for two o’clock was the hour appointed. Neverthe- 
less he lost every g^me up to that time, and this gave him an 
excuse for getting into a rage, and consequently, as is usual, to 
commit fault after fault. 

Therefore, just as the clock struck two, the balls began to 
fly into the moat, to La Ramee’s great delight, who scored fif- 
teen for every ball sent over by the Prince. 

So many were sent over that at last the balls began to fail. 
La Ramée proposed to send some one down to pick them up. 
But the Duke judiciously observed that it would be time lost ; 
and going up to the rampart, which at this place, as the 
officer had said, was fifty feet high, he saw a man working in 


172 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


one of those numerous little gardens which the peasants culti- 
vated on the other side of the moat. 

“ Hé, friend ! ’’ cried the Duke. 

The man raised his head, and the Duke was near utter- 
ing an exclamation of surprise. That man, that peasant, 
that gardener, was Rochefort, whom he believed to be in the 
Bastille. 

Well, what do you want up there?” inquired the man. 

Have the kindness to throw back our tennis balls,” said 
the Duke. 

The gardener nodded, and began to throw back the balls, 
which La Ramée and the guards picked up. One of them fell 
at the Duke’s feet ; and as it appeared especially meant for 
him, he picked it up and put it into his pocket. 

Then having thanked the gardener by a sign, he returned to 
his game. 

But the Duke was decidedly in bad play, for the balls con- 
tinued to go out of bounds : two or three went into the moat ; 
but as the gardener was no longer there to pick them up, they 
were lost. Then the Duke said that he was ashamed of such 
bad play, and did not wish to continue it. 

La Ramée was delighted at having so completely beaten a 
prince of the blood. 

The Prince retired to his room and went to bed, as he did 
almost every day since they had taken his books from him. 

La Ramée took away the Prince’s clothes, under the pre- 
tence of their being covered with dust, to have them brushed, 
but in reality that the Prince might not move. La* Ramée 
was a most careful and prudent man. Fortunately the Prince 
had found time to conceal the ball under his bolster. 

As soon as the door was shut the Duke tore open the 
covering of the ball with his teeth ; for they had left him no 
sharp instrument. He ate with knives of pliant silver that 
would not cut. 

Under the covering was a letter, containing the following 
lines : 

Monseigneur : 

Your friends are on the watch, and the hour of your 
deliverance draws near. Ask for a pie the day after to- 
morrow from the new confectioner who has purchased the 
business of the old shop, and who is no other thaji Noir- 


THE PIES OF FATHER MARTEAU' S SUCCESSOR. 173 


mont, your house-steward. Do not open the pie until you 
are alone. I hope that you will he satisfied with its con- 
tents. 

^^Your Highnesses most devoted servant, 

At the Bastille, as elsewhere, 

“ Comte de Rochefort. 

P.S. — Your Highness may place the most ' implicit confi- 
dence in Grimaud ; he is a most intelligent fellow, entirely - 
devoted to us.” 

The Due de Beaufort, whose fire had been restored since he 
had given up painting, burnt the letter, as he had even more 
unwillingly burnt Madame de Montbazon’s, and he ^as about 
to do the same with the ball, when it struck him that it might 
be useful to him in sending an answer to Rochefort. He was 
well guarded, for at the movement that he made La Ramée 
entered. 

Does monseigneur want anything ? ” said he. 

I was cold,” replied the Duke, ‘‘ and was getting the fire 
together to warm myself. You know, my dear, that the cham- 
bers of the Vincennes prison are famed for their coolness. 
Ice might be kept here, and you gather saltpetre. Those in 
which Puylaurens, the Marshal d’Ornano, and my uncle, the 
Grand Prior, died were on that account worth their weight in 
arsenic, as Madame de Rambouillet said.” 

And the Duke lay down again, concealing his ball in his 
bolster. La Ramée smiled slightly. He was at heart an 
excellent fellow ; and having conceived a great affection for his 
illustrious prisoner, would have been much distressed had any 
misfortune befallen him. How, the successive misfortunes 
which had happened to the three persons above named were 
incontestible. 

Monseigneur,” said he, you should not give way to such 
thoughts as those. Such thoughts kill, and not the salt- 
petre.” 

Ah, my dear,” said the Duke, you are charming. If I 
could go as you do and eat pies and drink Burgundy at Father 
Marteau’s successor’s, it would amuse me.” 

“ Oh, those pies are delicious indeed, and the wine is most 
excellent.” 


174 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


At any rate/’ replied the Duke, his cellar and kitchen 
may easily be better than M. de Chavigny’s.” 

“ Well,” said La Kamée, falling into the snare, what should 
prevent you tasting them ? Besides, I promised him your 
custom.” 

You are right,” said the Duke. If I must remain here 
forever, as Mazarin has had the kindness to promise me, I 
must invent some amusement for my old days ; I must become 
a gourmand.” 

Monsiegneur,” said La Earnee, take a piece of advice : do 
not wait till you are old for that.” 

Good,” said the Duke to himself. Every man, to destroy 
his soul and body, must have received from the munificence of 
Heaven one of the seven deadly sins, if not two. It seems 
that Master La Eamee’s is gormandising. Never mind ; we 
will take advantage of it.” Then he said aloud : 

Well, then, my dear La Earnee, the day after to-morrow is 
a feast day, is it not ? ” 

“ Yes, monsiegneur ; it is Whitsuntide.” 

“Would you like to give me a lesson the day after to- 
morrow ? ” 

“ In what ? ” 

“ In gormandising.” 

“ Most willingly, monseigneur.” 

“ But a lesson tête-h-tête. We will send the guards to dine 
at M. de Chavigny’s canteen, and will ourselves have a supper, 
the directions for which I leave entirely to you.” 

“ Hum ! ” said La Earnee. 

The offer was tempting ; but La Earnee, however unfavour- 
ably the Cardinal might consider his appearance, was a shrewd 
old dog, who knew every trap which a prisoner might lay. M. 
de Beaufort had, he said, prepared forty plans of escape. Did 
not this supper conceal some’ cunning device ? 

He reflected a moment ; but the result of his reflection was that, 
as he was to order the provisions and wine, no powder could be 
spread on the provisions, or any drug mixed with the wine. 

As for making him drunk, the Duke could not have formed 
any such intention, and the mere idea of it made him laugh. 
Then a sudden thought made everything easy. 

The Duke had followed La Eamee’s internal soliloquy with 
much anxiety, so far as he could observe it by the expression 
of his face ; and at last the officer’s countenance brightened. 


THE PIES OF FATHER MARTEAU" S SUCCESSOR. 175 

Well/’ said the Duke, does the proposition suit you ? ” 

Yes, monseigneur, on one condition.” 

And what is that ? ” 

It is that Grimaud may wait upon us at table.” 

Nothing could be better for the Prince ; yet he had sufficient 
command trCer himself to make his countenance assume an 
expression of ill-humour. 

The devil take your Grimaud ! ” he exclaimed ; “ he will 
quite spoil the feast.” 

I will command him to stand behind your Highness, and 
as he breathes not a syllable, your Highness will neither see 
nor hear him, and may imagine that he is a hundred leagues 
distant.” 

My dear,” said the Duke, “ do you know what I per- 
ceive most clearly in all this ? It is that you distrust me 
mightily.” 

Monseigneur, the day after to-morrow is Whitsuntide.” 

“ Well, and what have I to do with Whitsuntide ? Are you 
afraid that the Holy Ghost will descend on me in the form of 
a fiery, tongue and open the doors of my prison ? ” 

No, monseigneur, but I have told you what that cursed 
magician predicted.” 

“ And what did he predict ? ” 

That the Whitsuntide should not pass without your High- 
ness being out of Vincennes.” 

So you believe in magicians, you silly fellow ? ” 

I ? ” said La Pâmée ; I do not care that for them.” 
And he snapped his fingers. ‘‘ But it is Mon signor Giulio who 
cares for them ; being an Italian, he is superstitious.” 

The Duke shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Well,” said he, with good-humour perfectly put on, so let 
it be. I accept Grimaud, for otherwise we shall never settle 
anything. But I want no one else besides Grimaud. You 
must take the management of everything — you must order 
the supper as you see fit ; all I want is one of those pies you 
mentioned. You must order it in my name, that Father Mar- 
teau’s successor may even surpass himself; and you will 
promise him my custom, not only as long as I remain in 
prison, but also after I have left it.” 

So you still believe that you shall get out of it ? ” said La 
Pâmée. 

Why,” answered the Prince, even should it not be till 


176 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Mazariu’s death, I am fifteen years younger than he is. It is 
true,” he added, laughing, one lives faster at Vincennes.” 

Monseigneur ! ” cried La Ramée — monseigneur ! ” 

Or one dies sooner,” added the Duke ; it comes to the 
same thing.” 

‘‘ Monseigneur,” said La Ramée, I am going to order the 
supper.” 

And do you think that you can make anything of your 
pupil ?” 

I hope so, monseigneur,” replied La Ramée. 

If he gives you time for it,” murmured the Duke. 

What does monseigneur say ? ” 

“ Monseigneur says that you need not spare the CardinaPs 
purse, since he has taken it into his head to burden himself 
with our support.” 

La Ramée stopped at the door. 

Whom does monseigneur wish me to send to him ? ” 

“ Any one you like, except Grimaud.” 

The officer on guard, then ? ” 

Yes ; with his chess-board.” 

Yes,” and La Ramée left the room. 

In five minutes the officer on guard entered the room, and 
immediately afterwards the Due de Beaufort appeared to be 
absorbed in the sublime combinations of checkmating. 

Thought is a most singular thing, and what revolutions does 
one word, or sign, or hope produce in it ! The Duke had been 
five years in prison ; and on looking back at these five years, 
slowly as they had passed, they actually appeared shorter than 
the two days, the forty-eight hours, that still separated him 
from the period fixed for his escape. 

Then there was one thing which occupied him most in- 
tensely. It was in what way his escape was to be accom- 
plished. He had been made to hope for the result, but the 
mysterious details to be contained in this famous pie had been 
concealed from him. What friends awaited him ? So he still 
had friends after five years’ imprisonment ? He was, indeed, 
a most favoured prince. 

He forgot a still more extraordinary thing, that besides 
these friends a woman had not forgotten him. She might 
not, perhaps, have been scrupulously faithful to him, but she 
had not forgotten him, and that was much. 

All this was more than enough to engage M. de Beaufort’s 


THE PIES OF FATHER MARTEAU' S SUCCESSOR. 177 


thoughts. Therefore, at chess, as at tennis, the Duke com- 
mitted fault upon fault, and the officer beat him, as La Ramée 
had beaten him in the morning. 

But these successive defeats had this advantage, that they 
brought the Prince to eight o’clock in the evening. It was, at 
any rate, three hours gained. Then came the night, and with 
the night came sleep. 

At least so thought the Duke. But sleep is a most capri- 
cious divinity, and it is exactly when you invoke her that she 
refuses to come. The Duke waited for her till midnight, turn- 
ing and twisting on his bed like St. Laurent on his gridiron. 
At last, however, he slept. 

But with the day he awoke. He had had the most fantastic 
dreams : wings had sprouted from his sides ; then he naturally 
endeavoured to fly, and, at first, the wings had performed their 
office properly ; but having reached a certain height, this strange 
support had suddenly failed him, his wings had broken, he had 
seemed to fall into a fathomless abyss, and had awoke covered 
with perspiration, just as if he had fallen in reality. 

Then he had again fallen asleep, only to wander afresh in a 
labyrinth of dreams, each more senseless than the other. 
Scarcely were his eyes closed when his mind, fixed only on 
one object, — his escape, — applied itself to attempt this 
escape. Now the circumstances were quite different: a sub- 
terranean passage had been discovered which was to conduct 
him out of Vincennes ; he entered this passage, and G-rimaud 
was walking before him with a lantern in his hand ; but 
gradually the passage grew narrower, and yet the Duke con- 
tinued his course ; at last the subterranean passage became so 
narrow that the fugitive in vain endeavoured to go forward ; 
the sides of the walls contracted and squeezed him between 
them ; he made incredible efforts to thrust himself forward, 
but it was impossible ; and yet he saw Grimaud before him 
with his lantern, still walking on ; he wished to call him back 
to assist in pulling him out of this dfefile, which was smother- 
ing him, but he could not utter a word. Then, at the other 
extremity of the passage by which he had come, he heard the 
steps of his pursuers ; these steps drew near ; he was dis- 
covered, and had no longer any hope of escape. The wall 
appeared to be leagued with his enemies, and to press him 
closer the more he struggled to escape ; at last he heard the 
voice of La Ramée, and then he saw him ; La Ramée thrust 


1T8 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


forth his hand and laid it upon his shoulder, roaring with 
laughter ; he was taken and conducted to that low-vaulted 
chamber where the Marshal Ornano, Pnylaurens, and his 
uncle had died ; their three tombs were there, mounds rising 
from the ground ; and a fourth grave was open, only waiting 
for a dead body. 

Therefore, when he awoke the Duke made as great efforts 
to keep himself awake as he had before made to sleep ; and 
when La Eamée came in the morning he found him so pale 
and worn out that he asked him if he was ill. 

Eeally,’’ said one of the guards who had passed the night 
in the room, and who had not been able to sleep from the 
toothache caused by the dampness, monseigneur passed a 
most disturbed night, and two or three times called for help 
in his dreams.” 

What is the matter, monseigneur ? ” inquired La Eamée. 

Ah, it is you, you fool ! ” replied the Duke, who, with all 
your nonsense about my escaping, turned my head last even- 
ing, made me dream that I made the attempt and in doing it 
broke my neck.” 

La Eamée burst into laughter. 

You see, then,” said he, it is an admonition from Heaven, 
and I hope that monseigneur will never commit such follies 
except in your dreams.” 

“You are quite right. La Eamée,” said the Duke, wiping 
away the perspiration which yet stood on his forehead ; “I 
do not wish to think of anything for the future but eating 
and drinking.” 

“ Hush ! ” said La Eamée. 

And he sent away the guards upon various pretences. 

“ Well ? ” said the Duke, when they were alone. 

“ Well ? ” said La Eamée ; “ your déjeuner is ordered.” 

“ And of what will it consist ? ” inquired the Prince ; “ let 
us hear, sir Major-domo.” 

“Monseigneur promised to depend upon me.” 

“ And will there be a pie ? ” 

“ I believe so indeed — as big as a tower.” 

“ Made by Father Marteau’s successor ? ” 

“ It is ordered.” 

“ And you told him that it was for me ? ” 

“ I told him so.” 

“ And what did he say ? ” 


THE PIES OF FATHER MARTEAU' S SUCCESSOR. 179 


That he would do his best to satisfy your Highness/’ 

That ’s well/’ said the Duke, rubbing his hands. 

Zounds, your Excellence ! ” said La Ramée, how you 
take to good living ! Not once in all these five years have I 
seen you with such a joyous countenance.” 

The Duke saw that he had not been sufficiently master of 
his feelings ; but at that moment Grimaud entered, as if he 
had been listening at the door, and had perceived that it was 
necessary to distract La Ramee’s attention, and made a sign 
that he had somewhat to tell him. 

La Ramée went up to Grimaud, who spoke to him in a low 
voice. 

In the meantime the Duke recovered himself. 

I forbade this man to come in without my permission ! ” he 
exclaimed. 

You must pardon him, monseigneur,” said La Ramée, for 
I ordered him.” 

And why did you do so, when you knew that I disliked it ? ” 

Monseigneur remembers what has been agreed upon,” said 
La Ramée, and that he is to wait upon us at that famous 
supper. Monseigneur has forgotten the supper.” 

No ; but I had forgotten M. Grimaud.” 

Monseigneur knows that there can be no supper without 
him.” 

Well, then, do as you please.” 

Come here, Grimaud,” said La Ramée, “ and hear what I 
have to say to you.” 

Grimaud approached with his sourest look. 

La Ramée continued : 

Monseigneur has done me the honour to invite me to a tête- 
h-tête supper to-morrow.” 

Grimaud made a sign as much as to say, How does that 
concern me ? ” 

Yes, yes,” said La Ramée, ^Gt concerns you, for you will 
have the honour to wait on us without reckoning that how' 
ever hungry and thirsty we may be, something will be left for 
you in the dishes and at the bottom of the bottles.” 

Grimaud bowed his thanks. 

And now, monseigneur,” said La Ramée, I demand par- 
don of your Highness. It seems that M. de Chavigny is to 
be absent for some days, and before his departure he has some 
orders to give me.” 


180 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


The Duke endeavoured to exchange a glance with Grimaud, 
but Grimaud’s eye was expressionless. 

“ Go/’ said the Duke to La Damée, but return as soon as 
you can.” 

Would monseigneur like to take your revenge for yester- 
day’s tennis ? ” 

Grimaud gave an imperceptible nod. i 

^^Yes,” said the Duke. But take care, my dear La j 
Damée ; the days follow, but are not alike ; so that I am \ 
determined to give you a good beating this morning.” 

La Damée left the room. Grimaud followed him with his 
eyes without the rest of his body deviating a line from the 
perpendicular, and when he saw the door shut he drew a 
pencil and sheet of paper hastily from his pocket. ‘‘ Write, 
monseigneur,” said he. 

And what am I to write ? ” 

Grimaud pointed with his finger and dictated : 

Everything is ready for to-morrow evening. Keep a look- 
out from seven till nine 6^ clock. Have two led horses ready. We 
shall descend by the first window of the gallery. 

What next ? ” inquired the Duke. 

“ What next, monseigneur,” said Grimaud, quite astonished, 

“ after ? Why, sign it.” 

And is that all ?” I 

What can you want more, monseigneur ? ” replied Gri- 1 
maud, who was for the strictest brevity. 

The Duke signed it. 

^^And now,” said Grimaud, has monseigneur lost the 
ball ? ” 

What ball ? ” 

That which contained the letter.” | 

No ; I fancied that it might be useful to us. There it is.” | 

And the Duke took the ball from his bolster and gave it to I 
Grimaud. 

Grimaud gave his most charming smile. 

W ell ? ” said the Duke. 

^^Well, monseigneur,” answered Grimaud, I sew the 1 
paper in the ball, and while you are playing you must send ! 
it over into the trench.” 

But perhaps it will be lost.” i 

No, monseigneur ; there will be some one to pick it up.” ] 

A gardener ? ” asked the Duke. I 


ONE OF MARIE MICHON'S ADVENTURES. 181 


Grimaud nodded. 

The same as yesterday ? ’’ 

Grimaud repeated his sign. 

The Comte de Kochefort, is it ? ’’ 

Grimaud nodded three times. 

But come/’ said the Duke, at any rate tell me something 
about the measures which are to be used to accomplish my 
escape.” 

‘^That is forbidden,” said Grimaud, ‘^before the moment of 
execution.” 

“ Who are those who will await me on the other side of the 
moat ? ” 

I know nothing about it, monseigneur.” 

But at any rate, if you would keep me from going mad 
tell me what will be in this famous pie.” 

Monseigneur,” said Grimaud, “ it will contain two daggers, 
a knotted cord, and a choke-pear ^ gag.” 

Good ! I understand.” 

Monseigneur sees that there will be something for each 
of us.” 

“ We shall take the daggers and cord for ourselves,” said 
the Duke. 

And we will make La Eamée eat the pear,” said Grimaud. 

My dear Grimaud,” said the Duke, you do not speak 
often, but when you do favour us you utter golden words.” 


CHAPTEE XXII. 

ONE OF MARIE MICHON’s ADVENTURES. 

About the same time that these plans of escape were being 
laid by the Due de Beaufort and Grimaud, two horsemen, 
followed at a short distance by a lacquey, were entering Paris 
by the Eue du Faubourg St. Marcel. These two men were 
the Comte de la Père and the Vicomte de Bragelonne. 

It was the first time that the young man had visited Paris ; 
and Athos, by showing him the first view of it from this side, 
had not indulged in any coquettish sentimentality by giving him 

1 A poire â' angoisse (choke-pear) was an improved gag; it was in the shape of a pear, 
was thrust into the mouth, and by means of a spring expanded itself so as to stretch 
the jaws to their utmost extent. 


182 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


a favourable impression of his former mistress — the capital, f 
Assuredly the last village of Touraine was more pleasing to ; 
the eye than Paris seen from the side of Blois. We must * 
confess, therefore, that this far-famed city produced but a ' 
slight effect upon the youth. I 

Athos had his usual air of calm indifference. 

Having reached St. Médard, Athos, who acted as guide j 
through this labyrinth, took the Bue des Postes, then the Bue 
de L’Estrapade, then the Bue des Fosses St. Michel, then the j 
Bue de Vaugirard. When they came to the Bue Pérou the ( 
travellers went down it. About half-way down the street I 
Athos raised his eyes with a smile, and pointing to a citizen’s \ 
house — j 

There,” said he, Baoul, there is a house where I passed | 
seven of the happiest and unhappiest years of my life.” 

The young man smiled in his turn and bowed to the house. 
His deep love for his protector manifested itself in every act 
of his life. 

As to Athos, we have said that Baoul was not only the 
centre, but, saving his connections with his old regiment, the sole 
object of his affections ; and it may be easily imagined in 
what tender way Athos’s heart now could love. | 

The two travellers stopped at the Bue du Vieux-Colombier, 
at the sign of the Renard- Vert. Athos had known this 
tavern of old. A hundred times had he visited it with his 
friends ; but during twenty years there had been many 
changes in it, beginning with its landlords. 

The travellers turned their horses over to the grooms, and, 
as they were high-bred animals, recommended them particu- 
larly to their care, directing that they should only give them } 
chaff and oats, and should rub their legs and chests with warm | 
wine. They had been travelling twenty leagues a day. Then, j 
having first taken care of their horses, as all genuine cavaliers 
should do, they asked for two rooms for themselves. j 

You must go and dress, Baoul,” said Athos j I am about I 
to introduce you to some one.” | 

To-day, sir ? ” asked the young man. 

In half an hour.” 

The youth bowed. Less robust than Athos, who appeared 
to be made of iron, he would probably have preferred a bath 
in that Seine of which he had heard so much and which he 
was determined to find inferior to the Loire, and afterward 


ONE OF MARIE MICHON' S ADVENTURES, 183 


his bed ; but the Comte de la Fère had spoken, and he thought 
of nothing but obedience. 

By the by/’ said Athos, take some pains with your 
toilet. I wish you to look your very best.” 

I hope, sir,” said the youth, smiling, that there is no 
question of marriage ? You remember my engagements with 
Louise.” 

Athos also smiled. 

^Œo, do not distress yourself,” said he, although I am 
going to introduce you to a woman.” 

A woman ! ” cried Baoul. 

Yes ; and I shall expect you to love her.” 

The youth looked at the Count with some anxiety ; but see- 
ing Athos smiling he became more easy. 

And how old is she ? ” demanded the Vicomte de Brage- 
lonne. 

My dear Raoul, learn once for all,” replied Athos, that 
that is a question which is never asked. When you can read 
a woman’s age in her countenance, there is no use in asking it ; 
when you cannot, it is indiscreet.” 

And is she beautiful ? ” 

Sixteen years ago she had the character of being not 
only the most beautiful, but the most graceful woman in 
France.” 

This answer quite reassured the Viscount. Athos could not 
possibly have any project concerning him and a woman who 
was considered the most beautiful and most graceful woman in 
France a year before he was born. 

So he went to his room, and, with that foppery so excus- 
able in youth, began to follow Athos’s instructions ; that is, to 
make himself look as well as possible. Row, this was easy, 
considering what nature had done for him. 

When he came down Athos received him with a paternal 
smile such as he had been wont to bestow on D’Artagnan in 
the olden days, but it bore the impress of a deeper tenderness 
for Raoul. 

Athos cast a glance at his feet, his hands, and his hair, those 
three signs of high breeding. His dark hair was gracefully 
parted, as it was then worn, and fell in curls, shading his 
face ; gray doeskin gloves, matching his hat, set off his elegant 
and slender hand ; while his boots, of the same color, confined 
a foot that might have belonged to a boy of ten. 


184 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Come/’ said he in a low voice, if she is not proud of j 
him, she must be fastidious indeed.” 

It was three o’clock in the afternoon, just the proper time | 
for making calls. The two travellers went by the Rue de 
Grenelle, then took the Rue des Rosiers, entered the Rue St. ; 
Dominique, and stopped before a splendid mansion, situ- 
ated opposite the Jacobins, and surmounted by the arms of i 
Luynes. 

Here it is,” said Athos. i 

He entered the mansion with that firm step which always i 
assures a porter that one has a right to do so. He mounted the 
steps, and, addressing a footman in magnificent livery, inquired 
if Madame la Duchesse de Chevreuse was at home, and if she 
would receive M. le Comte de la Fère. 

A moment after the footman returned and said that 
although the Duchesse de Chevreuse had not the honor of 
knowing Monsieur le Comte de la Fère she requested him to 
enter. 

Athos followed the servant, who led him through a long 
suite of apartments, and at last stopped before a door that was 
closed. They were in a salon. Athos made the Vicomte de 
Bragelonne a sign to remain where he was. 

The servant opened the door and announced Monsieur le 
Comte de la Fère. 

Madame de Chevreuse, whom we have so often mentioned 
in our story of The Three Musketeers ” without having had 
an opportunity of describing her, was still considered a very 
beautiful woman. Indeed, although she was now about forty- 
four or forty-five years old, she appeared scarcely thirty -eight. 
Her fair hair was still beautiful, her large intelligent eyes which 
intrigue had so often opened and love so often shut were still 
full of fire, and her sylph-like figure was still most symmetri- 
cal, so much so that to one who walked behind her she looked 
like the young girl who jumped over the moat of the Tuil - 
eries with Anne of Austria, thereby, in 1623, depriving the 
Crown of France of an heir. 

Moreover, she was still the same giddy creature who cast 
such a stamp of originality over her amours that they are 
become a sort of illustration of her family. 

She was in a small boudoir, the window of which looked on 
the garden. This boudoir, according to the fashion which 
Madame de Rambouillet had introduced on building her hôtel, 


ONE OF MARIE MICHON'S ADVENTURES. 185 


was hung with a sort of blue damask with red flowers and 
gold leaves. There was much coquetry in a woman of the 
age of Madame de Chevreuse living in such a boudoir, and 
more than all, in being, as she was at that moment, reclining 
on a sofa, her head resting against the tapestry. 

She held a half-opened book in her hand and had a cushion 
to support the arm that held the book. 

At the servant’s announcement she partly raised herself and 
thrust her head forward with considerable curiosity. 

Athos made his appearance. 

He was dressed in violet-coloured velvet with laces of the 
same colour ; his points were of dead silver ; his mantle had no 
gold embroidery ; and a plain violet-coloured plume drooped 
over his dark hat. He had boots of black leather 5 and from 
his polished girdle hung that sword, with its magnificent 
handle, which Porthos had so often admired in the Pue Pérou, 
and which Athos would never lend him. The falling collar of 
his shirt was composed of splendid lace, and lace also hung 
over the tops of his boots. 

In the whole person of him who had just been announced 
under a name completely unknown to Madame de Chevreuse, 
there was such an air of the gentleman of high condition that 
she half rose and gracefully motioned to him to take a seat. 

Athos bowed and obeyed. The servant Avas about to retire, 
when Athos made him a sign to remain. 

Madame,” said he to the Duchess, I have had the audac- 
ity to present myself at your hôtel without being known to 
you. I have so far succeeded, since you have deigned to 
receive me. I have now to request you to grant me half an 
hour’s private conversation.” 

I grant it to you, sir,” replied Madame de Chevreuse, with 
her most gracious smile. 

But that is not all, madame. I know that I am very pre- 
sumptuous, but the conversation which I request is tête-à-tête, 
and I am most anxious not to be interrupted.” 

I am at home to no one,” said the Duchess to the servant. 

Leave the room.” 

The lacquey departed. 

There was a moment’s silence during which these two per- 
sons, who saw at the first glance that they were both of high 
birth, examined each other without the slighest embarrassment. 

The Duchess first broke silence. 


186 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 




Well, sir,^’ said she, do you not perceive that I am wait- j. 
ing with impatience ? ‘ 

“ And I, madame,’’ replied Athos, I am looking with i 
admiration.” 

“ Sir,” said Madame de Chevreuse, “ you must excuse me t 
for being anxious to know to whom I am speaking. You are | 
of the Court, that is quite evident, and yet I have not seen you i 
there. Have you just come out of the Bastille ? ” i 

Ho, madame,” replied Athos, smiling ; but I am probably j 
on the road that leads to it.” * i 

Ah, in that case tell me quickly who you are, and then i 
take your departure,” cried the Duchess, with that tone of 
gayety which was so charming in her ; for I am already suffi- 
ciently compromised without being more so.” 

Who I am, madame ? My name has been announced — 
the Comte de la Fère. This name you have never known. 
Formerly I bore another, which perhaps you knew, but which 
you have certainly forgotten.” 

Tell it me, however, sir.” 

Formerly,” replied the Count, I was called Athos.” 

Madame de Chevreuse opened her large eyes with astonish- 
ment. It was evident that this name was not, as the Count 
had supposed, entirely effaced from her memory, although , 
much confounded amid ancient recollections. | 

Athos ?” said she. Wait now.” | 

And she placed her hands on her forehead as if to compel I 
the thousand fugitive ideas so far to concentrate as to enable 
her for one instant to have a clear view of that brilliant and 
chequered assemblage. 

. ‘‘ Shall I assist you, madame ? ” asked Athos, smiling. 

^^Yes,” replied the Duchess, already fatigued with the 
effort; ^^you will much oblige me.” 

This Athos was allied with three young Musketeers who 
were called D’Artagnan, Porthos, and ” — 

Athos paused. 

‘‘ And Aramis,” added the Duchess, with great vivacity. 

Yes, Aramis — that ’s it,” said Athos ; you have not, 
therefore, forgotten that name ? ” 

“ Ho,” said she. Poor Aramis ! — he was a charming gen- 
tleman, elegant, discreet, and the author of pretty verses. I 
believe that he has turned out badly,” said she. 

Oh, very badly indeed ! He has become an abbé.” 


ONE OF MARIE MICHON^S ADVENTURES. 187 


Ah, what a sad misfortune ! ” said Madame de Chevreuse, 
carelessly playing with her fan. “ Really, sir, I am extremely 
obliged to you.’’ 

“ For what, madame ? ” 

For having recalled this recollection to me, which is one of 
the most agreeable souvenirs of my youth.” 

And will you allow me to recall another ? ” 

Which is connected with the former ? ” 

Yes and no.” 

“ Faith, sir, you may say anything,” replied Madame de 
Chevreuse. I am willing to run any risk with a man like 
you.” 

Athos bowed. 

“Aramis had some connection,” said he, ^^with a young 
seamstress of Tours.” 

A young seamstress of Tours ? ” said Madame de Chev- 
reuse. 

Yes ; a cousin of his who was called Marie Michon.” 

Oh, yes, I knew her,” said Madame de Chevreuse. He 
wrote to her during the siege of La Rochelle, to warn her of a 
plot which was forming against that poor Buckingham.” 

Exactly so,” said Athos. Would you allow me to speak 
to you concerning her ? ” 

Madame de Chevreuse looked earnestly at Athos. 

Yes,” answered she, provided that you will not speak too 
severely of her.” 

I should then be ungrateful,” said Athos ; “ and I look 
upon ingratitude not merely as a fault or crime, but as a vice, 
which is much worse.” 

Wdu ungrateful to Marie Michon, sir ! ” exclaimed Madame 
de Chevreuse, endeavouring to read Athos’s eyes. “ How could 
that be ? You never knew her personally.” 

Oh, madame, who knows ? ” replied Athos. There is a 
popular proverb that only mountains do not meet ; and popu- 
lar proverbs are often wonderfully true.” 

Well, go on, go on, sir,” said Madame de Chevreuse eagerly, 
for you can have no idea how greatly this conversation amuses 
me.” 

You encourage me,” replied Athos, and therefore I pro- 
ceed. This cousin of Aramis, — this Marie Michon ; in fine, 
this young seamstress, — in spite of her humble condition, had 
acquaintances in the highest circles. She called the greatest 


188 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


ladies of the Court her friends ; and the Queen, proud as she i 
is as an Austrian and a Spaniard, called her sister.’’ 

Alas ! ” said Madame de Chevreuse, with a gentle sigh ; 
and a slight movement of the eyebrows peculiar to herself, 
^Hhings are greatly changed since that time.” 

And the Queen was right,” continued Athos, for she was 
much devoted to her, even to the point of serving as the me- ' 
dium of communication with her brother the King of Spain.” 

But that is now imputed to her as a great crime,” replied | 
the Duchess. ‘ i 

So that the Cardinal,” continued Athos, the other — the I 
real Cardinal, resolved to arrest poor Marie Michon and send Î 
her to the Chateau deLoches. Fortunately, this project could not | 
be executed so secretly but that it leaked out ; the possibility 
had been provided for. In case Marie Michon were threatened 
by any danger, the Queen was to send her a book of Hours 
bound in green velvet.” 

“ Exactly so, sir ! You are well informed.” | 

‘‘ One morning this green book arrived, being brought by de 
Prince Marcillac. There was no time to lose. By good fortune, 
Marie Michon and a servant she had named Kitty wore men’s i 
clothes admirably well. The Prince procured for Marie Michon 
a cavalier’s dress, and for Kitty a lacquey’s, and gave them 
two excellent horses. The fugitives quitted Tours in great I 
haste and directed their course toward Spain, trembling at 1 
every sound ; following by-lanes because they dared not pursue 
the high road, and asking hospitality when they could not find , 
an inn.” ! 

Well, really, that is exactly the truth ! ” exclaimed Madame ! 
de Chevreuse, clapping her hands ; it would be singular 
indeed ” — 

She stopped. 

Shall I follow the two travellers to the end of their 
journey ? ” said Athos. No, madame, I will not waste your 
time in that manner, and we will accompany them only as far 
as a little village of Limousin, situated between Tulle and 
Angouleme, — a little village called Boche-1’ Abeille.” 

Madame de Chevreuse uttered a cry of surprise and looked 
at Athos with an expression of astonishment which made the 
old Musketeer smile. 

Wait, madame,” said Athos, for what remains to be told 
is far more singular than what I have yet narrated.” 


ONE OF MARIE MICHON'S ADVENTURES. 189 


Sir,” cried Madame de Chevreuse, I take you for a 
sorcerer ; I am waiting to hear everything, but really — Never 
mind, proceed.” 

“This day the journey had been very long and fatiguing. 
It was cold, for it was the eleventh of October. There was 
neither inn nor chateau in this village, and the peasants’ 
houses weire poor and dirty. Marie Michon was a very aristo- 
cratic person, and like the Queen, her sister, she was accus- 
tomed to delicate odours and fine linen. She determined, 
therefore, to ask hospitality at the priest’s house.” 

Athos paused. 

“ Oh, continue ! ” said the Duchess ; “ I told you that I am 
waiting to hear the whole story.” 

“ The two travellers knocked at the door ; it was late, and 
the priest, who was in bed, called out for them to come in. 

“ They entered, for the door was not fastened ; in villages 
there is no suspicion. A lamp was burning in the priest’s cham- 
ber. Marie Michon, who made the most charming cavalier in 
the world, pushed open the door, thrust in her head, and asked 
hospitality. 

“ ‘ Willingly, young gentlemen,’ answered the priest, ^ if you 
will be satisfied with the remains of my supper and a share 
of my room.’ 

“The two travellers consulted together a moment. The 
priest heard them laughing heartily. Then the master, or 
rather the mistress, replied: 

“ ^ Thank you, M. le Curé, I accept your offer.’ 

“^Then sup, and make as little noise as you can, replied 
the priest, ‘ for I also have been travelling all day, and I shall 
not be sorry to sleep to-night.’ ” 

Madame de Chevreuse was evidently proceeding from sur- 
prise to astonishment, and from astonishment to stupefaction. 
Her face, as she looked at Athos, had assumed an expression 
impossible to describe; it was plain that she would have 
spoken, but yet held her tongue for fear of losing one word 
uttered by her visitor. 

“ What next ? ” said she. 

“ What next ? ” replied Athos. Ah ! now comes the most 
difficult part.” 

“ Speak ! speak ! speak ! You may tell me all. Besides, 
it does not concern me: it concerns Mademoiselle Marie 
Michon.” 


190 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Ah ! that is true/’ said Athos. “ Well, then, Marie Michon 
supped with her maid, and after supper, according to the per- 
mission which had been given, entered her host’s apartment, 
while Kitty settled herself in an easy-chair in the front room 
where they had supped.” 

Really, sir,” said Madame de Chevreuse, unless you are 
the demon himself, I cannot imagine how you came to know 
all these circumstances.” 

Marie Michon was a charming woman,” continued Athos ; 

one of those crazy creatures into whose minds the 
strangest ideas constantly enter — one of those beings born 
for our destruction. Now, as she remembered that her host 
was a priest, this coquette conceived the notion that it would 
be a jolly recollection for her in her old age, among many other 
jolly recollections, that she had brought about the damnation 
of an abbé.” 

“ Count,” exclaimed the Duchess, on my word of honour 
you absolutely frighten me.” 

Alas ! ” proceeded Athos, the poor abbé was not a St. 
Ambrose, and I repeat it — Marie Michon was an adorable 
creature.” 

Sir ! ” exclaimed the Duchess, seizing Athos’s hands, tell 
me instantly how you know all these circumstances, or I will 
send for a monk of the Vieux- Augustins and have you exor- 
cised ! ” 

Athos began to laugh. 

‘‘Nothing easier, madame. A cavalier who was himself 
engaged in an important mission had, an hour before you, 
come to ask hospitality at the priest’s dwelling, and just at 
that very moment the priest was called out to a dying man, 
and was about to leave not only his house, but the village, for 
the night. Then the priest, having full confidence in his 
guest, who was, in fact, a gentleman, had given up to him his 
house, his supper, and his bed. So Marie Michon had asked 
hospitality of the good abbé’s guest, and not of the abbé him- 
self.” 

“And this cavalier — this guest — this gentleman, who 
arrived before her ” — 

“Was myself, the Comte de la Fère,” replied Athos, rising 
and bowing respectfully to the Duchess. 

Tlie Duchess remained a moment in utter stupefaction, and 
then suddenly bursting into laughter — 


ONE OF MARIE MICHON'S ADVENTURES. 191 


Ah ! by my faith/’ said she, it is very droll. This mad- 
cap, Marie Michon, got off better than she expected. Sit 
down, my dear Count, and finish yoiir tale.” 

‘‘Now, madame, I must make my apologies. I have :>o 1 (l 
yon that I was travelling on an important mission. At the 
break of day I left the room very quietly, leaving my charm- 
iiig bedfellow asleep. In the front room I found Ihc ir. .mI 
servant — wholly worthy of her mistress — also asleep, vitri '-fr 
head resting on the chair. Her pretty face stTnek me t 
approached her, and recognised that little Kitty whom r".;! 
friend Aramis had recommended to her. And thus i learnt 
that the charming traveller was ” — 

“ Marie Michon,” said the Duchess, with gréai' qnickness. 

“ Marie Michon,” replied Athos. “ Then I left the house, 
went to the stable, found my horse saddled and my se.rvant 
ready ; we departed.” 

“ And have you never revisited that village ? ” said Madame 
de Chevreuse, with great vivacity. 

“ A year after, madame.” 

“ Well, then ? ” 

“ Well, I wished to see the good priest again. I found him 
much occupied with an event which he could not comprehend. 
He had, a week before, received a, cradle containing a charming 
little boy of three months old. with a purse full of gold, and 
a note containing these simple} words, ‘ October 11, 1633.’ ” ^ 

“ It was the date of that singular, adventure,” replied 
Madame de Chevreuse. 

“ Yes, but he did not unrlerstand anything about it, except 
that he had passed the night with a dying man ; for Marie 
Michon had herself left his' house before his return.” 

“You must know, sir/’ said the Duchess, “that Marie 
Michon, on her returu Uj France in 1643, sent to find out some- 
thing about that child 5 for as she was a fugitive, she could 
not take care of ih ; but on her return to Paris, she wished to 
have it brought ’Ip xiear her.” 

“ And what viid the abbé say ? ” demanded Athos. 

“ That ■{. nobleman, whom he did not know, had taken charge 
of it, had uoy.lc liimself responsible for its future welfare, and 
had tal* !i q -o/.iy with him.” 

'"1 ;t w-.os rrue.’’ 

“ A îi : 1 understand now ! That nobleman was yourself — 
isis, puiicr.” 


192 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Hush ! r>o not speak so loud, madame. He is there.” t 
He is there ! ” exclaimed Madame de Chevreuse, rising 
quickly, — “he is there ! — my son — the son of Marie Michon | 
— is there ! I must see him this instant ! ” I 

“ Observe, madame, that he neither knows his father nor his | 
mother,” said Athos. 

“You have kept the secret, and have brought him here, 
thinking that it would make me very happy. Oh, thanks, 
thanks, sir ! ” exclaimed Madame de Chevreuse, seizing his 
hand and endeavouring to carry it to her lips. “ Thanks ! 
You have indeed a noble heart ! ” 

“ I bring him to you,” said Athos, withdrawing his hand, 

■ “ that you may, in turn, do something for him, madame. Till 
now I have carefully watched his education, and T have made 
him, 1 think, an accomplished gentleman. But the time is 
come when 1 find myself obliged to resume the wandering and 
dangerous life of a party-man. To-morrow I enter upon a 
hazardous adventure which may cost me my life. Then he 
must depend on you for his progress in the world, where he 
must play a part.” 

“ Oh, you may be assured on that point ! ” exclaimed the 
Duchess. “ Unfortunately I have but little influence at pres- 
ent, but what I have shal? be exerted for him. As for his 
fortune and his title ” — 

“ Do not distress yourself about that, madame. I have re- 
signed to him the estate of Bragolonne, which I inherited, and 
which gives him the title of Vis(;'Ount and ten thousand livres 
a year.” 

“ Upon my honour, sir,” said th ^ Dnchess, “ you are a noble 
gentleman. But I am most eager to see our young Viscount. 
Where is he ? ” 

“ Out there in the salon. I will .bring him if you wish 
it.” 

Athos went toward the door. Tho stopped him. 

“ Is he handsome ? ” said she. 

Athos smiled. 

“ He resembles his mother,” said he. 

At the same time he opened the door and ma Je a sign to 
the young man, who appeared on the threshold. 

Madame de Chevreuse could not refrain from uttering an 
exclamation of joy at seeing such a charmiug cavt?lier, who 
surpassed the proudest hopes that she could have foi'med. 


ONE OF MARIE MICRON'S ADVENTURES. 193 


Viscount, come near,’’ said Athos ; Madaine la Duchesse 
de Chevreuse permits you to kiss her hand.” 

The young man approached, with his sweet smile and head 
uncovered, put one knee to the ground and kissed Madame de 
Chevreuse’s hand. 

Monsieur le Comte,” said he, turning to Athos, do you not, 
in pity for my timidity, tell me that this lady is the Duchesse de 
Chevreuse, and not rather the Queen ? ” 

“No, Viscount,” said Madame de Chevreuse, taking his hand 
and making him sit near her, and looking at him with eyes 
sparkling with delight. “ No, unfortunately I am not the 
Queen, for if I were I would immediately treat you according 
to your merits. But such as I am,” she continued, with 
difficulty refraining from pressing her lips to his noble fore- 
head, — “ such as I am, let me know what career you wish to 
follow.” 

Athos, still standing, looked at them both with an indescrib- 
able expression of happiness. 

“ Why, madame,” said the young man, with his sweet and 
melodious voice, “ it appears to me that there is but one career 
for a gentleman — that of arms. M. le Comte has educated 
me, I believe, with the intention of making me a soldier ; and 
he led me to hope that on coming to Paris he would introduce 
me to some one who would recommend me to the Prince.” 

“ Yes, I comprehend. It is a good thing for a young soldier 
like you to serve under a general like the Prince. But let us 
see ; wait ; at present I am on bad terms with him, on account of 
the disputes of my mother-in-law, Madame de Montbazon, with 
Madame de Longueville. But through the Prince de Marcillac 
— ah, really. Count, that ’s it — M. le Prince de Marcillac is 
an old friend of mine ; he will recommend our young friend to 
Madame de Longueville, and she will give him a letter to her 
brother the Prince, who loves her too dearly not to comply 
immediately with her wishes.” 

“ That will do excellently well,” said the Count ; “ only may 
I recommend the very greatest despatch. I have reasons for 
wishing the Viscount to leave Paris before to-morrow evening.” 

“ Do you wish your name to be mentioned. Monsieur le 
Comte ? ” 

“ It were better perhaps for him that it should not be known 
that he ever knew me.” 

“ Oh, sir ! ” cried the young man. 


194 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ You know, Bragelonne,’’ said Athos^ that I never do i 
anything without sufficient reason.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said the young man, know that you are wis- 1 
dom itself, and I will obey you, as I have always done.” 

Well, then,” said the Duchess, leave him with me. Count. '• 
I will send for the Prince de Marcillac, who is fortunately in i 
Paris, and will not let him go till the matter is settled.” ; 

A thousand thanks, Madame la Duchesse. I have much r 
to do to-day ; and on my return at about six this evening, I i 
shall expect the Viscount at the hotel.” 

What are you going to do this evening ? ” 

We are going to the Abbé Scarron’s. I have a letter for 
him, and expect to meet one of my friends at his house.” 

Very well,” said the Duchess. I will look in there 
myself for a minute or two. Do not leave his house until you 
have seen me.” 

Athos bowed, and was leaving the room. 

Well, Monsieur le Comte,” said the Duchess, laughing, do 
old friends part so ceremoniously ? ” 

“ Ah,” murmured Athos, kissing her hand, had I but 
sooner known Marie Michon was such a charming creat- 
ure ” — 

And he left the room with a sigh. ! 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE ABBÉ SCARRON. 

There was a house in the Rue des Tournelles which all the 
chairmen and lacqueys of Paris knew ; and yet it was not the 
habitation of a nobleman or financier. There was no feasting 
there ; never any playing ; and very seldom dancing. 

Yet it was the rendezvous of fashionable society, and all 
Paris went there. 

This house belonged to little Scarron. 

There was so much laughter at the witty abbe’s, so much 
news was detailed, this news was so rapidly discussed, ana- 
lysed, and transmuted, either into tales or epigrams, that every 
one wished to pass an hour with little Scarron, to hear what 


THE ABBÉ SCARRON. 


195 


he said, and to retail it in other places. Many were also am- 
bitious of letting off their own witticisms ; and if they were 
funny, of course they themselves were acceptable. 

The little Abbé Scarron — who, after all, was only an abbé 
because he possessed an abbey, and not because he was in 
orders — had formerly been one of . the most dandy preben- 
daries of the town of Mans where he lived. One day, during 
the carnival, he took it into his head to cause the greatest 
amusement to this good town of Mans, of which he was the 
life and soul ; so he made his valet rub him all over with 
honey ; then, having opened a feather bed, he rolled himself 
in it, so that he became the most grotesque specimen of the 
bird kind that ever was seen. He then commenced a series 
of visits to his male and female friends, in this strange cos- 
tume. At first he was followed with astonishment ; then with 
laughter and cries ; then the porters began to abuse him, and 
the children to pelt him with stones ; until at last he was 
obliged to scamper off to avoid the projectiles. As soon as he 
began to fly, every one followed him ; he was tracked, hunted, 
and ferreted out of every retreat, and he found no other means 
of escaping his pursuers than by throwing himself into the 
river. He swam like a fish, but the water was as cold as ice. 
Scarron was in a violent perspiration ; the cold seized him, 
and when he reached the other side he was paralysed. 

Every method which was known at that time was tried to 
restore the use of his limbs ; and they made him suffer so 
much by their treatment that he dismissed his physicians, 
declaring that he much preferred the disease. Then he went 
back to Paris, where his character as a man of talent had been 
already established. There he had a chair made, of his own 
invention ; and one day when he paid Anne of Austria a visit 
in this chair, she, being delighted with his talent, asked him 
if he would not like to have some title. 

Yes, your Majesty, there is one of which I am vastly am- 
bitious,’^ replied Scarron. 

And what is that ? ” demanded Anne of Austria. 

The title of your Invalid , replied the abbé. 

And Scarron was thenceforth nominated the Queen’s In- 
valid,” with a pension of fifteen hundred livres. 

From this moment, with no further anxiety for the future, 
Scarron had led a jolly life, living on his pension and the 
income of his abbey. 


196 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


One day, however, one of the Cardinal’s emissaries gave him i 
a hint that he was wrong in receiving the coadjutor. 

And why ? ” asked Scarron ; is he not a man of high I 
birth ? ” 

Oh, yes ! ” 

Amiable ? ” 

“ Without doubt.” 

“ Witty ? ” 

Unfortunately he has too much wit.” 

Well, then,” said Scarron, why do you wish me to dis- 
continue my acquaintance with such a man ? ” 

“ Because he thinks ill of ” — 

Eeally ! Of whom ? ” 

“ Of the Cardinal.” 

Why ! ” replied Scarron, I continue to receive M. Gilles 
Despréaux, who thinks ill of me ; and would you have me 
refuse to receive the coadjutor because he thinks ill of another 
person ? Impossible ! ” 

Here the conversation dropped ; and Scarron, from a spirit 
of opposition, had seen even more of M. de Gondy than 
before. 

Now, the very morning of the day which we have reached, 
and which was the last day of the quarter, Scarron, as usual, 
had sent his lacquey to the pension-office, with a receipt, to 
obtain his three months’ pay ; but an answer had been re- 
turned that the State had no more money for the Abbé 
Scarron.” 

When the lacquey brought this answer to Scarron, the Due 
de Longueville was with him, and offered to give him a pension 
of twice the amount of which Mazarin had deprived him ; but 
the cunning invalid took good care not to accept it. He man- 
aged so well, however, that at four o’clock in the afternoon 
the whole capital had heard of the Cardinal’s refusal. It 
happened to be Thursday, the abbé’s reception day. The 
people went there in crowds, and through the whole city there 
was bitter criticism on the Cardinal’s action. 

Athos met two gentlemen in the Rue St. Honoré. He did 
not know them. They were on horseback and followed by a 
lacquey, as he also was, and going the same way. One of 
them took off his hat and said : 

Can you believe it, sir ! — that scoundrel Mazarin has de- 
prived poor Scarron of his pension | ” 


THE ABBÉ SCARRON. 


197 


It is ridiculous/’ said Athos, bowing at the same time to 
the two gentlemen. 

“ Evidently you are a decent man, sir,” said the same gentle- 
man who had before addressed Athos ; and this Mazarin is 
really a scourge.” 

^^Alas, sir,” replied Athos, ^^be careful to whom you say 
this ! ” ^ 

And they separated with many expressions of politeness. 

This happens very well, as we must go there this evening,” 
said Athos to the Viscount ; we will pay our compliments to 
the poor man.” 

But who, pray, is M. Scarron, who is putting all Paris into 
such commotion ? ” asked Baoul. Is he a disgraced minister ? ” 

^^Oh, mon Dieu! no. Viscount,” replied Athos; “he is simply 
a little gentleman, of considerable talent, who seems to have 
fallen into disgrace with the Cardinal, for having composed 
some quatrain against him.” 

“ And do gentlemen make verses ? ” demanded Kaoul, with 
great simplicity. “ I thought that it was beneath them.” 

“ Yes, my dear Viscount,” replied Athos, laughing, “ when 
they make bad ones ; but when they make good ones, it raises 
their reputation. Look at M. de Botrou. And yet,” con- 
tinued Athos, in the tone of one giving a piece of salutary 
advice, “ I believe that it is better not to make any.” 

“ Then,” said Raoul, “ this M. Scarron is a poet ? ” 

“ Yes. Now you are prepared. Viscount, be very guarded 
in that house. Speak only by gestures, or rather listen.” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Raoul. 

“ You will perceive me talking a good deal with one of my 
friends, the Abbé d’Herblay, whom you have often heard me 
mention.” 

“ I remember it, sir.” 

“ Come toward us sometimes, as if to address us, but with- 
out speaking to us ; and do not listen to us. This plan will 
keep troublesome people from interrupting us.” 

“ Very well, sir ; I will strictly obey you.” 

Athos paid two visits in Paris; and then at about seven 
o’clock they went toward the Rue des Tournelles. The 
street was blocked up by chairmen, horses, and footmen. 
Athos pushed through them, and entered, followed by the 
young man. The first person that attracted his attention on 
entering was Aramis, standing near a very large easy-chair 


198 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


I 


on casters, and covered by a canopy of tapestry ; under this, in i 
a state of perpetual motion and enveloped in a brocaded cloak, ; 
was a little face, young and gay enough, but sometimes turn- ' 
ing pale, although his eyes never lost their animated, talented, , 
and courteous expression. It was the Abbé Scarron, alwa3’^s ' 
gay, jesting, complimenting, suffering, and scratching himself ! 
with a small stick. % 

Around this kind of movable tent a crowd of gentlemen and i 
ladies was pressing. The apartment was very neat, and suit- ■ 
ably furnished. Large silk curtains, embroidered with flowers ( 
the colours of which had formerly been brilliant, but were now 
a little faded, hung from the lofty windows ; the tapestry Avas 
unpretentious, but in good taste. Two lacqueys, extremely 
polite and drilled to good manners, served with dignity. 

On seeing Athos, Aramis came up to him, took him by the 
hand, and introduced him to Scarron, who expressed as much 
pleasure as respect for his new guest, and paid an elegant 
compliment to the Yiscount. Kaoul was quite confused, for j 
he was not prepared for the majesty of such cleverness. I 
Nevertheless, he bowed gracefully. | 

Athos next received the compliments of tAvo or three gentle- 
men to whom Aramis introduced him. Then the slight dis- 
turbance caused by his entrance gradually subsided, and the 
conversation became general. 

In four or five minutes, which Kaoul employed in recoA^ering 
himself and in taking a topographic view of the assembly, the 
door opened and a servant announced Mademoiselle Paulet. 

Athos touched E-aoul on the shoulder. 

Look at that lady, Eaoul,’’ said he, for she is a historical 
personage. Henry IV. was going to her house Avhen he was 
assassinated.” 

Eaoul started. At every moment, for many days, some 
curtain had been raised for him, discovering some heroic inci- 
dent. This woman, still young and beautiful, had known and 
conversed Avith Henry IV. 

Every one eagerly pressed toward the neAv-comer, for she 
Avas greatly in fashion. She was tall, slender, and symmet- 
rical, with a profusion of golden hair, such as Eaphael loved 
and Titian bestowed on all his Magdalens. This taAvny or 
yellow colour, or perhaps that sort of regal preeminence Avhich 
she had acquired over all other women, had caused her to be 
denominated the Lioness. 


THE ABBÉ SCARRON. 


199 


Our fair ladies of the present day, who are ambitious of this 
fdsiiionable title, will thus know that it is derived, iiot from 
England, as they may perhaps have imagined, but from their 
beautiful and talented countrywoman. Mademoiselle Paulet. 

Mademoiselle Paulet went straight up to Scarron, in the 
midst of the universal murmur which her arrival had caused. 

Well, my dear abbé,’’ said she, in her calm and gentle 
voice, so you are become a poor man. We heard of it this 
afternoon at Madame de Pambouillet’s. M. de Grasse told it 
to us.” 

Yes, but the State becomes rich,” replied Scarron. One 
should learn to sacrifice one’s self for one’s country.” 

The Cardinal will buy fifteen hundred livres’ worth more 
of pomatum and perfumes every year,” said a frondeur, whom 
Athos at once recognised as the gentleman whom he had met 
in the Rue St. Honoré. 

But what will the muse say ? ” replied Aramis, in his 
mellifluous voice, — the muse, who requires gilded mediocrity. 
For, after all : 

“ '•si Virgilio puer ant tolerabile desit 
hospitium^ caderent omnes à crinibus hydri' ” 

Good ! ” said Scarron, holding his hand out to Made- 
moiselle Paulet ; but if I no longer have my hydra, at any 
rate I still have my Lioness.” 

Every word that Scarron uttered that evening appeared 
exquisite. It is the privilege of persecution. M. Ménage was 
in ecstasies of enthusiasm. 

Mademoiselle Paulet took her accustomed place ; but before 
she sat down, she cast, from the height of her stature, a 
queenly glance over all the assembly, and her eyes rested on 
Raoul . 

Athos smiled. 

You have been observed by Mademoiselle Paulet, Raoul. 
Go and pay your respects to her. Tell her what you are — 
frankly a youth from the provinces ; but take care that you do 
not mention Henry IV.” 

The Viscount went, blushing, toward the Lioness, and was 
soon lost in the crowd of men that surrounded her chair. This 
made two distinct groups — that which surrounded M. Mé- 
nage, and that which surrounded Mademoiselle Paulet. Scarron 
ran from one to the other, steering his movable chair amid all 


200 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


this crowd with as much skill as the most experienced pilot 
would direct a barque through a sea studded with reefs. 

When shall we have some talk together ? ’’ said Athos to 
Aramis. 

Presently,” he answered ; there is not yet sufficient com- 
pany assembled, and we should be observed.” 

At this moment the door opened, and the attendant an- 
nounced M. le Coadjuteur. 

At this name every one turned round, for it was one which 
w'as already beginning to be renowned. 

Athos did the same, for he knew the Abbé de Gondy only 
by name. 

He saw a little dark man, ill-formed and near-sighted, ex- 
tremely awkward with his hands in everything but the use 
of the sword and pistol. As soon as he came in he ran against 
a table, which he nearly upset, but yet he had something 
haughty and fierce in his countenance. 

Scarron turned and went toward him with his chair. Made- 
moiselle Paulet bowed and waved her hand to him from her 
seat. 

‘^Well,” said the coadjutor, on seeing Scarron, which was 
not until he almost ran against him, so you are in disgrace, 
abbé ? ” 

This was the sacramental expression ; it had been used a 
hundred times during the evening; and Scarron had now 
reached his hundredth hon mot on the same subject. He 
was therefore nearly exhausted, but a desperate effort saved 
him. 

M. le Cardinal Mazarin,” said he, has been kind enough 
to take thought of me.” 

Prodigious ! ” exclaimed Ménage. 

But how will you manage to receive us ? ” continued the 
coadjutor. If your income decreases, I must make you a 
canon of Notre Dame.” 

Oh, no,” said Scarron ; I should compromise you too 
much.” 

“ Then you have resources unknown to us ? ” 

‘‘ I will borrow from the Queen.” 

But her Majesty has nothing of her own,” said Aramis ; 

does she not live under the rule of community of goods ? ” 

The coadjutor turned and smiled at Aramis, making a 
friendly sign to him. 


THE ABBÉ SC AKRON. 


201 


Pardon, my clear abbé,” said he to him ; you are late, and 
I must make you a present.” 

Of what ? ” said Aramis. 

“ Of a hat band.” 

Every one turned toward the coadjutor, who drew from his 
pocket a silk band of singular form. 

Ah ! ” said Scarron, that is a fronde ! ” 

Exactly so,” said the coadjutor ; everything is made h 
la fronde. Mademoiselle Paulet, I have a fan for you, à la 
fronde. I will give you the address of my glover, D’Her- 
blay : he makes gloves à la fronde. And of my baker to you, 
Scarron, with unlimited credit: he makes excellent bread à 
la fronde.^^ 

Aramis took the band and fastened it round his hat. 

At this moment the door opened and the servant cried out 
in a loud voice : 

Madame la Duchesse de Chevreuse.” 

At the name of Madame de Chevreuse every one arose. 

Scarron directed his chair rapidly toward the door. Raoul 
blushed ; Athos made a sign to Aramis, who went and took his 
place in the embrasure of the window. 

In the midst of the respectful compliments that greeted her 
entrance, the Duchess was evidently looking for some person 
or thing. At last she discovered Raoul, and her eyes sparkled ; 
she perceived Athos, and became thoughtful ; she saw Aramis 
in the embrasure of the window, and made an imperceptible 
motion of surprise behind her fan. 

Apropos f she said, as if to drive away the ideas that 
intruded in spite of all her efforts. How is poor Voiture ? 
Do you know, Scarron ? ” 

What ! is M. Voiture ill ?” demanded the gentleman who 
had spoken to Athos in the Rue St. Honoré ; and what has he 
been doing now ? ” 

He has been playing, without having made his servant 
bring him a change of linen,” said the coadjutor; so that he 
has caught cold, and is dangerously ill.” 

And where is that ? ” 

Oh, mon Dieu ! at my house. You must know that poor 
Voiture had made a solemn vow not to play any more. At the 
expiration of three days he could no longer keep it, and came 
to the bishop’s palace, that I might release him from his vow. 
Unfortunately at that very moment I was engaged on matters 


202 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


of serious consequence with the excellent Broussel, at the far- ; 
ther end of my apartment, when Voiture perceived the Marquis J 
de Luynes seated at a table, waiting for some one to play with ( 
him. The Marquis calls him, and invites him’ to sit down at ! 
the table ; Voiture answers that he cannot play till I have re- ' 
leased him from his vow. Luynes answers for me and takes ; 
the sin upon himself ; Voiture sits down at the table and loses i 
four hundred crowns, takes cold on going out, and goes to bed ! 
not to get up again.’’ , 

Ah, is he so bad as that — our dear Voiture ? ” demanded i 
Aramis, half concealed behind the curtain. 

Alas ! ” replied M. Menage, he is very ill, and this great 
man will perhaps leave us — deseret orbem.’’^ 

Good ! ” said Mademoiselle Paulet, with considerable acri- I 
mony. He die ! He will look out for that ! He is surrounded 
by sultanas, like a Turk. Madame Saintot has hastened to him, 
and is giving him broths ; La Renaudot is warming his sheets ; 
and even our friend, the Marquise de Rambouillet, sends him 
gruel.” 

You do not love him, my dear Parthenia,” said Scarron, 
laughing. 

“ Oh, what injustice ! My dear invalid, I hate him so little 
that I would with pleasure cause Masses to be said for the 
repose of his soul.” 

“ You are not called Lioness for nothing, my dear,” said 
Madame de Chevreuse, for you bite very sharply.” 

You ill-treat a great poet, it seems to me, madame,” haz- 
arded Raoul. 

“ He a great poet ? It is plain enough that you are just 
come from the country. Viscount, as you have told me, and that 
you never saw him. He ! — a great poet ? Why, he is not 
five feet high.” 

Bravo ! bravo ! ” cried a tall, thin, black man with a 
haughty mustache and an enormous rapier ; “ bravo, fair 
Paulet! It is time, at last, to put that little Voiture into his 
proper place. I openly declare that I think I know something 
of poetry, and have always found his detestably bad.” 

And who, pray, is this captain ? ” said Raoul to Athos. 

M. de Scudéry.” 

The author of ‘ Clelie ’ and the ^ Grand Cyrus ’ ? ” 

At any rate he composed it with the assistance of his sister, 
who is conversing with that pretty woman near M. Scarron.” 


THE ABBÉ SCARRON. 


203 


Eaoul turned and saw two new visitors who had just entered 
— one of them had a very charming, delicate, and melancholy 
face, framed in a profusion of glossy black hair, with eyes as 
soft as those beautiful violet-coloured flowers of the pansy, with 
their sparkling gold calyxes ; the other, apparently her guard- 
ian, was cold, withered, and yellow, the very personiflcation of 
a genuine duenna or devotee. 

Eaoul promised to himself not to leave the room without 
having spoken to the pretty young girl with the soft eyes, 
who, by a strange freak of his imagination, although she had 
not the slightest resemblance to her, reminded him of his little 
Louise, whom he had left ill at the Chateau de la Vallière, 
and whom in the midst of this brilliant assemblage he had for 
a time forgotten. 

In the meantime Aramis went up to the coadjutor, who, 
with a smiling countenance, managed to whisper a few words 
in his ear. Aramis, in spite of the power he had over himself, 
could not refrain from slightly starting. 

Laugh, please,’^ said M. de Gondy ; we are observed ; 
and he went to talk to Madame de Chevreuse, who was encir- 
cled by a vast crowd. 

Aramis pretended to laugh, to distract the attention of some 
curious listeners ; and seeing that Athos had been for some 
moments in the embrasure of the window, he rejoined him 
without affectation, after having spoken some casual words to 
those around him. 

As soon as they met again, they commenced a conversation 
accompanied by many gestures. 

Eaoul then went toward them, as he had been directed by 
Athos. 

It is one of Yoiture^s rondeaus which M. PAbbe is repeat- 
ing to me,’’ said Athos aloud, and I find it incomparable.” 

Eaoul remained some moments near them, and then went to 
mingle with the group around Madame de Chevreuse, which 
Mademoiselle Paulet and Mademoiselle Scudery had also 
joined. 

Well, for my part,” said the coadjutor, I cannot allow 
myself to be entirely of M. de Scudéry’s opinion. On the con- 
trary, I think that M. de Voiture is a poet — but a poet pure 
and simple. He has no political ideas whatever.” 

So then ? ” said Athos. 

“ It is to-morrow,” answered Aramis hastily. 


204 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ At* what hour ? ’’ 

At six o’clock.’’ 

Where ? ” 

“ At St. Mandé.” 

Who told you so ? ” 

The Comte de Rochefort.” 

Some one approached them. 

And as to his philosophical ideas ? It was there poor 
Voiture failed. I am of the coadjutor’s opinion — a poet pure 
and simple.” 

Yes, certainly, in poetry he was prodigious,” said Menage. 

And yet posterity, even while admiring, will lay one fault 
to his charge ; namely, of having given himself too great a 
license in the composition of his poetry. He has murdered 
poetry without knowing it.” 

‘‘ Murdered — that is the word,” said Scudery. 

‘‘ But what masterpieces his letters are ! ” said Madame de 
Chevreuse. 

“ Oh, in that respect he is a perfect paragon,” said Made- 
moiselle Scudery. 

It is true,” said Mademoiselle Paulet ; but only when he 
is jesting ; for he is actually pitiable in his serious letters ; 
and if he does not say things crudely, you must confess that 
he says them ill.” 

But, at any rate, you must confess that his humour is 
inimitable.” 

Yes, certainly,” said Scudery, twisting his mustache. 

Only I find that his humour is forced and his pleasantry too 
familiar. Look at his ‘ Letters from the Carp to the Pike.’ ” 

Without reckoning,” said Menage, that his best inspira- 
tions came from the Hôtel de Rambouillet. For instance, his 
‘ Zelide and Alcidalee.’ ” 

For my part,” said Aramis, joining the circle and bowing 
respectfully to Madame de Chevreuse, who answered him by 
a gracious smile, — for my part I will also accuse him of being 
too free with great people. He often failed in respect tow- 
ard Madame the Princess, M. le Maréchal d’Albret, and M. de 
Schomberg ; toward the Queen herself.” 

^^How! Toward the Queen?” demanded Scudéry, bringing 
his right leg forward, as if to place himself on guard. 

Zounds ! I did not know that. And how did he fail in 
respect toward her Majesty ? ” 


THE ABBÉ SCARRON. 


205 


r>( j ycai not know his piece, ^ Je pensais ’ ? ” 
said Madame de Chevreiise. 

No,” said Mademoiselle de Scudery. 

No,” said Mademoiselle Paulet. 

In fact,” said Aramis, I believe that the Queen commu- 
nicated it to very few persons ; but I have it on the very best 
authority.” 

And do you know it ? ” 

I believe that I can recollect it.” 

Let us have it — let us have it ! ” they all exclaimed. 

You must know the circumstances under which it was pro- 
duced,” said Aramis. “ M. de Voiture was in the Queen’s 
carriage, who was taking an airing with him tUe-h-tete in the 
forest of Fontainebleau. He pretended to be thinking, in 
order that the Queen might ask him what he was thinking of, 
which she did not fail to do. 

^ What are you thinking about, M. de Voiture ? ’ said her 
Majesty. 

Voiture smiled, pretended to reflect five seconds that it 
might be believed he composed extempore, and answered : 

‘ Je pensais que la Destinée^ 

Après tant d’injustes malheurs^ 

Vous a justement couronnée 
De gloire^ d éclata et dhonneurs ; 

Mais que vous étiez plus heureuse 
Lorsque vous étiez autrefois^ 

Je ne dirai pas amoureuse — 

La rime le veut toutefois' ” 

Scudéry, Ménage, and Mademoiselle Paulet shrugged their 
shoulders. 

“ Wait, wait,” said Aramis, there are three stanzas.” 

Oh, say three couplets,” cried Mademoiselle de Scudéry ; 
it is neither more nor less than a ballad.” 

“ Je pensais que ce pauvre Amour ^ 

Qui toujours vous prêta ses armes^ 

Est banni loin de votre cour^ 

Sans ses traits^ son arc^ et ses charmes : 

Et de quoi je puis profiter 
En passant près de vous^ Marie^ 

Si vous pouvez si maltraiter 
Ceux qui vous ont si bien servie.' " 

Oh, as to this last passage,” said Madame de Chevreuse, 


206 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


I do not know whether it is according to the rules of poetry, 
but I ask for your indulgence toward him because it is true ; 
and Madame de Hautefort and Madame de Sennecey will unite 
with me, should it be necessary, without reckoning M. de 
Beaufort.” 

“ Proceed, proceed,” said Scarron ; it is of no consequence 
to me now. From this morning I am no longer the Queen’s 
invalid.” 

The last couplet,” said Madame de Scudéry, — the last 
couplet, let us have it ! ” 

Here it is,” said Aramis, and it has the advantage of 
using proper names, so that there can be no possibility of 
mistake. 

‘‘ '•Je pensais — nous autres poètes 
Nous pensons extravagamment — 

Ce que dans Vhumeur où vous êtes 
Vous feriez si dans ce moment 
Vous avisiez en cette place 
Venir le Duc de Buckingham., 

Et lequel serait en disgrâce 
Et duc ou du père Vincent J' ” ‘ 

At this last stanza there was but one exclamation at Voiture’s 
impertinence. 

‘‘ But,” said the young lady with the soft eyes, in a low 
voice, — but I am unfortunate enough to think these verses 
quite charming.” 

This was also the opinion of Paoul, who, going up to Scar- 
ron, said, with a blush : 

M. Scarron, will you be so obliging as to tell me who that 
young lady is who is single in her opinion against all this 
illustrious assembly ? ” 

Aha, my young Viscount,” said Scarron, ‘‘ I believe that 
you wish to jjropose an alliance, offensive and defensive, with 
her.” 


1 1 was thinking that Fate — after so many undeserved misfortunes — has with justice 
crowned you — with glory, splendour, and honours; — But that you were happier — 
when in the days gone by you were — I will not say in love — and yet that is what the 
rime will have it! 

I was thinking that poor Cupid — who always lent you his weapons — is banished far 
from your Court — deprived of his arrows, his bow, and his charms : and of what advan- 
tage it will be to me — in being near you, Marie, — if you can thus ill-treat — those who 
have served you so well ! 

I was thinking (and we poets — are apt to have wild thoughts) — what in your present 
mood — you would do if at this moment — you should perceive the Duke of Buckingham 
coming into this place, and which would be in disgrace — the Duke or l’ère Vincent.^ 

* Père Vincent was the Queen’s Confessor. 


THE ABBÉ SCARRON. 


201 


Raoul coloured again. 

I confess,” said he, that I thmk the vei'ses vury pretty.” 

^^And so they really are,” said Scarron. ‘‘But hush! 
Among poets we must not talk in this manner.” 

“ But I,” said Raoul, “ have not the honour of being a poet, 
and I asked you ” — 

“ Ah, true — who that young lady was ? It is la belle 
Indienne.” 

“ Will you excuse me, sir ? ” said Raoul, “ but I am not wiser 
than before. Alas ! I am a provincial.” 

“ Which means that you do not very well understand the 
bombast that here flows from every mouth. So much the 
better, young man, — so much the better. Do not try to under- 
stand it, you will only waste your time, and by the time you 
have become capable of understanding it it is to be hoped that 
it will no longer be spoken.” 

“ Therefore you will pardon me, sir,” replied Raoul, “ and 
you will also deign to inform me who it is whom you call 
la belle Indienne.” 

“ Yes, certainly. She is one of the most charming persons 
in the world — Mademoiselle Françoise d’Aubigné.” 

“ Is she of the family of the famous Agrippa, the friend of 
Henry IV. ? ” 

“ She is his granddaughter, and is just come from Marti- 
nique ; which is the reason of my calling her la belle Indienne.” 

Raoul opened his eyes wide, and they met those of the young 
lady, who smiled. 

The talk about Voiture continued. 

“ Sir,” said Mademoiselle d’Aubigné, addressing Scarron, 
that she might join in the conversation which he held with 
the young Viscount, “ do you not wonder at poor Voiture’s 
friends ? Only hear how they are plucking him in the midst 
of their commendations. One takes from him common sense, 
another poetry, another originality, another humour, another in- 
dependence, another — But, bon Dieu ! what will they leave him 
— leave this perfect paragon, as Mademoiselle Scudery said ? ” 

Scarron and Raoul began to laugh. La belle Indienne, 
astonished at the ejffect she had produced, dropped her eyes 
and resumed her simple air. 

“ She has great talent,” said Raoul to himself. 

Athos, still in the embrasure of the window, overlooked all 
this scene, with a disdainful smile upon his lips. 


208 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 

' Call M. le Comte de la Fère to me,” said Madame de 
Chevreuse to the coadjutor. I want to speak to him.” j 

And I,” said the coadjutor, want it to be believed that I j 
never speak to him. I esteem and admire him, for I know ’ 
his former adventures, at least some of them, but I do not j 
wish to address him until day after to-morrow morning.” | 

And why day after to-morrow morning ?,” inquired j 
Madame de Chevreuse. 

You will know that to-morrow evening,” said the coadjutor, 
laughing. 

Really, my dear Gondy,” said the Duchess, you speak 
like the Apocalypse. M. d’Herblay,” she added, turning 
toward Aramis, will you this evening once more become my 
servant ? ” 

“ Why, certainly. Duchess,” said Aramis ; this evening — 
to-morrow — forever ! — command me.” 

Well, then, go and get M. le Comte de la Fere for me. I 
wish to speak to him.” 

Aramis went to Athos, and returned with him. 

Monsieur le Comte,” said the Duchess, giving Athos a 
letter, here is what I promised you. Our protégé will be 
received most favourably.” 

Madame,” said Athos, ‘‘ he is most fortunate in being in- 
debted to you for anything.” 

You have nothing for which to envy him in that respect, 
for I am indebted to you for having ever known him,” said the 
sly creature, with a smile that reminded Aramis and Athos of 
Marie Michon. 

And saying this, she arose and ordered her carriage. 

Mademoiselle Paulet was already gone, and Mademoiselle 
Scudéry just going. 

“ Viscount,” said Athos to Raoul, follow Madame de Che- 
vreuse, request her to do you the favour to take your hand to 
help her downstairs, and as you go, thank her.” 

La belle Indienne went to take leave of Scarron. 

Are you going so soon ? ” said he. 

I am one of the last, as you may perceive. If you hear 
any news of M. Voiture, particularly if it be good, do me the 
favour to send it to me to-morrow.” 

Oh,” said Scarron, now he may die.” 

And why so ? ” inquired the young lady with soft eyes. 

Because his panegyric has been made.” 


THE ABBÉ SCARRON. 


209 


And they separated with smiles, the young girl turning 
and looking with interest at the poor paralytic ; and the poor 
paralytic following her with eyes of love. 

Gradually the groups dispersed. Scarron pretended not to 
see that certain of his guests had conversed mysteriously 
together, that letters had been brought to many persons, and 
that the soiree appeared to have a mysterious purpose, far 
removed from literature, about which they had, nevertheless, 
made such a great fuss. But what did it signify to Scarron ? 
Since the morning, as he had said, he was no longer the 
Queen’s invalid. 

As for Baoul, he had attended the Duchess to her carriage, 
where she had taken her seat, giving him her hand to kiss. 
Then, by one of those giddy caprices which made her so ado- 
rable, and at the same time so dangerous, she had suddenly 
seized him by the head, and kissed his forehead, saying : 

Viscount, may my good wishes and this kiss bring you 
good fortune ! ” 

Then she pushed him back, telling her coachman to drive 
to the Hôtel de Luynes. The carriage went off, Madame de 
Chevreuse giving a farewell wave of the hand to the young 
man, who returned to the salon in utter confusion. 

Athos understood all that had passed, and smiled. 

Come, Viscount,” said he, it is time for you to retire. 
To-morrow you depart for the army of M. le Prince. There- 
fore sleep well, on this'your last night as a citizen.” 

Then I am to be a soldier,” said the young man. Oh, 
sir, I thank you with all my heart!” 

“ Adieu, Count,” said the Abbé d’Herblay, I am going to 
my monastery.” 

‘‘Adieu, abbé,” said the coadjutor; “I am to preach to- 
morrow, and I have twenty texts to consult this evening.” 

“ Adieu, gentlemen,” said the Count, “ I am going to sleep 
a good four-and-twenty hours, for I am overwhelmed with 
fatigue.” 

The three men bowed and departed, after having exchanged 
a last look. 

Scarron followed them, with a glance from the corner of 
his eye, through the door of his salon. 

“ Not one of them will do what he has said,” murmured he, 
with his apish smile. “But let them go: they are noble 
gentlemen. Who knows but what they are now labouring to 


210 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


•make them give me back my pension ? They can move their 
arms — that is a great thing. Alas ! I have only my tongue ; 
but I will endeavour to prove that that is something. Hallo ! 
Champenois, it is now striking eleven ; come and wheel me to 
my bed. Really that Mademoiselle d’Aubigne is a charming 
creature ! ’’ 

Upon this the poor paralytic disappeared in his bed-cham- 
ber, the door of which closed behind him, and one by one the 
lights were extinguished in the salon of the Rue des Tournelles. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

SAINT DENIS. 

The day was beginning to dawn when Athos arose and 
dressed himself. It was very perceptible, by his unusual 
pallor, and by the traces which want of sleep leaves upon the 
countenance, that he had passed an almost sleepless night. 
Contrary to the habitual and peculiar firmness and decision of 
this man, there was this morning something slow and irreso- 
lute in his whole appearance. 

The reason was that he was engaged in preparations for 
Raoul’s departure, and was endeavouring to gain time. First, 
he himself furbished up a sword which he drew from a 
scabbard of perfumed leather, examined if the handle was 
well on guard and if the blade was firmly fixed to the handle. 

Then he threw a small bag full of louis into the young 
man’s valise, called Olivain (that was the name of the lacquey 
who had followed them from Blois), made him pack the port- 
manteau before him, seeing that everything necessary for a 
young man going on a campaign was placed within it. At 
last, having employed nearly an hour on all these cares, he 
opened the door of the Viscount’s chamber, and softly entered it. 

The sun, already radiant, penetrated into the apartment 
through the large window-panes, the shutters of which Raoul, 
having come in late, had forgotten to close. He was still 
sleeping, his head gracefully resting on his arm. His long 
black hair half concealed his charming forehead, covered with 
that moisture indicative of fatigue in youth. 

Athos approached, and bending over him in an attitude full 


SAINT DENIS. 


211 


of melancholy tenderness, for a long time looked at the youth, 
thus reposing with a smile on his lips, and half-closed lids. 
Indeed, his dreams ought to be soft and his slumber light, so 
much of silent solicitude and affection did his guardian angel 
express in his watchfulness. Athos allowed himself to be 
gradually carried away b}" the fascinations of his reverie, in 
the presence of youth so pure and exuberant. His own youth 
came back to him, bringing with it all those sweet recollections 
which are rather perfumes than thoughts. Between that past 
and the present there was an abyss. But imagination has the 
wing of an angel and of the lightning : she leaps across seas 
where we have almost met with shipwreck, across the darkness 
in which our illusions have vanished, and the precipices where 
our happiness has been shattered. He remembered that all 
the first part of his life had been destroyed by a woman ; and 
he thought with terror what influence love might excite over 
an organization so delicate, and at the same time so vigorous. 

By recalling all that he had himself suffered he foresaw all that 
Raoul might endure ; and the expression of profound and ten- 
der pity that passed through his heart impressed itself on the 
tearful look with which he regarded the young man. 

At this moment Raoul awoke, fresh, clear-headed, and invigo- 
rated ; certain delicate organizations in this respect are like the 
birds. His eyes rested on Athos’s, and doubtless he understood 
all that passed in the heart of that man, who thus awaited his 
waking as a lover awaits that of his mistress ; for his look as- 
sumed an expression of intense affection. 

Have you been there long, sir ? ” said he respectfully. 

Yes, Raoul ; I have been here some time,” replied the 
Count. 

And you did not awake me ? ” 

I wished to leave you a few moments more of that excel- 
lent sleep, my dear. You must have been fatigued by our 
long day yesterday, for it was even prolonged to a late hour 
into the night.” 

Oh, sir, how good you are ! ” exclaimed Raoul. 

Athos smiled. 

How do you feel ? ” said he. 

Oh, perfectly well, sir ; and thoroughly rested.” 

You know that you are still growing,” continued Athos, 
with the paternal and charming interest of the mature for the 
young man, “ and so fatigue has a double effect at your age.” 


212 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Oh, sir,” replied Raoul, quite ashamed of so much consid- 
eration for him, pardon me, and I will be dressed in a ' 
moment.” ; 

Athos called Olivain, and, in reality, in ten minutes, with ( 
that punctuality which Athos had acquired in his military " 
service and transmitted to his pupil, the young man was | 
ready. } 

Now,” said the youth to the lacquey, employ yourself 
about my baggage.” ; 

Your baggage is waiting for you, Raoul,” said Athos ; I j 

had the valise packed under my own inspection, and nothing | 
is wanting. It must be already placed on your horse, and the 
lacquey’s portmanteau on his, if my orders have been car- 
ried out.” ! 

“ Everything has been done according to the Count’s wishes,” 
said Olivain, and the horses are waiting.” 

And I was asleep,” exclaimed Raoul, while you, sir, had 
the goodness to occupy yourself with all these details. Really, 
sir, you overwhelm me with your kindness.” 

And so you love me a little ? — at least I hope so,” replied 
Athos in a tone of considerable emotion. 

Oh, sir ! ” exclaimed Raoul, who, that he might not betray 
his feelings by any outburst of weakness, was struggling with 
himself almost to suffocation, — oh ! God is my witness that 
I love and venerate you.” 

Let us see that you forget nothing,” said Athos, pretend- 
ing to look around so as to conceal his emotion. 

Oh, no, sir,” replied Raoul. 

The lacquey then came up to Athos with some hesitation, 
and said to him in a low voice : 

Sir, the Viscount has no sword, for you made me take 
away the one which he wore last evening.” 

“ Very well,” replied Athos, I wdll take care of that.” 

Raoul appeared not to notice tliis conversation. He went 
downstairs, looking every instant at the Count, to see if the 
farewell moment had come. But Athos did not move a muscle. 

On reaching the steps Raoul saw three horses. Oh, sir,” 
said he overjoyed, so you are going with me ? ” 

I wish to ride a little way with you,” replied Athos. 

Joy shone in Raoul’s eyes as he threw himself lightly on 
his horse. 

Athos mounted his slowly, after having said something in a 


SAINT DENIS. 


213 


low voice to the lacquey, who, instead of immediately follow- 
ing, returned into the liouse. Kaoul, enchanted at being in 
the Count’s company, either did not perceive, or pretended 
not to perceive, anything of this. 

The two gentlemen went by the Pont-Neuf, followed the 
quays, or rather what was then called Pepin’s watering-place, 
and skirted along the walls of the Grand Châtelet. They 
were entering the Rue St. Denis when they were overtaken 
by the lacquey. 

They proceeded in silence. Raoul realized that the time of 
separation was approaching. The Count had, the evening 
before, given various directions with regard to his journey. 
Besides, his looks redoubled in tenderness, and the few words 
that escaped him grew more and more affectionate. From 
time to time a reflection, or a piece of advice, dropped from 
his lips, and his words were full of solicitude. 

After having passed the Porte St. Denis, and when the two 
cavaliers had reached the heights of les Récollets, Athos cast 
his eyes on the Viscount’s horse. 

‘‘ Take care, Raoul,” said he, you have too heavy a hand 
on your horse. I have often told you so. You must not for- 
get it, for it is a great fault in a horseman. See, your horse 
is already fatigued : he foams at the mouth ; while mine ap- 
pears as if he were just come out of the stable. You harden 
his mouth by thus always bearing on the bit. And observe 
that you cannot in this way make him manoeuvre with the 
necessary rapidity. The safety of a cavalier very often de- 
pends upon the prompt obedience of his horse. Remember 
that in a week hence you will no longer be manoeuvring in 
the riding-school, but on the field of battle.” 

Then suddenly, not to appear to give too grave an impor- 
tance to this observation, Athos continued : 

Look, Raoul, what a fine plain for hawking partridges.! ” 

The young man profited by the lesson, and more than all, 
admired the affectionate delicacy with which it was given. 

also remarked one thing the other day,” said Athos, 
that in shooting with the pistol you extended your arm too 
.much. This affects the correctness of your aim ; therefore, 
in twelve shots you missed the butt three times.” 

While you hit every time, sir, replied Raoul, smiling. 

Because I bent my arm, and kept my hand supported by my 
elbow. Do you thoroughly understand what I mean, Raoul ? ” 


214 ^ 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Yes, sir. I have shot alone since then ; I followed your I 
directions and was perfectly successful.” ' 

‘‘Observe also,” said Athos, that in fencing you attack |i 
your adversary too much. I know very well that it is the ' 
fault of your age ; but the motion of the body in attacking I 
turns the sword from the direct line ; and if you were en- ; 
gaged with a cool hand he would stop you at the first pass, • 
either by a simple parry or a direct thrust.” ! 

“ Yes, sir, as you have often done ; but it is not every one j 
that possesses your skill and courage.” 

“ How sharp the wind is ! ” said Athos ; “ it reminds us of 
winter. By the way, if you get under fire, — and you will do 
so, for you are recommended to a young general who is very 
fond of the smell of powder, — remember that in a personal : 
conflict, which often happens, particularly amongst us cavaliers, 
— remember well that you should never fire first; he who fires 
first seldom hits his man, for he fires with the dread of re- 
maining unarmed before an armed enemy. Then, when he 
fires, make your horse rear. This manœuvre has saved my life ! 
two or three times.” 

“ I will make use of it, were it only from gratitude.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Athos, “ are not those poachers who are being 
taken down there ? Yes, they really are. . . . And then, 

a very important thing, Raoul : should you be wounded in a 
charge, and fall from your horse, if you have sufficient strength 
left, take yourself from the line followed by your regiment ; 
otherwise it may be driven back, and you would be trodden 
under foot by the horses. At all events, should you be 
wounded, write to me immediately, or make some one write. 
We have some knowledge of wounds,” he added, smiling. 

Thank you, sir ! ” exclaimed the young man, with great 
emotion. 

“ Ah r here we are at St. Denis,” murmured Athos. 

In fact, they had just reached the gate of the town, which 
was guarded by two sentinels. One of them said to the other : 

“ Ah ! here is another young gentleman who appears to be 
going to join the army.” 

Athos turned round. Everything referring even indirectly 
to Raoul assumed an importance in his eyes. 

“ How can you tell that ? ” said he. 

“ By his air, sir,” said the sentinel. “ Besides, he is just the 
age. He is the second this morning.” 


SAINT DENIS. 




215 


“ What ! has another young man like myself passed through 
this morning ? ” asked Kaoul. 

Yes, faith, he has, and of a haughty air, and with a hand- 
some equipment. He looked to me like the son of some high 
family.’’ 

‘‘ He will be a companion for me on my journey, sir,” re- 
plied E-aoul, already spurring forward ; but, alas ! he will not 
make me forget what I lose.” 

I do not think that you can overtake him, Eaoul ; for I 
have something to say to you here, and it may occupy sufficient 
time to enable this gentleman to get a long way before you.” 

As you please, sir.” 

Whilst thus conversing, they traversed the streets, which 
were very full, on account of the service of the festival, and 
came opposite the old church, in which they were then saying 
a first Mass. 

Let us dismount, Eaoul,” said Athos ; “ and you, Olivain, 
take care of the horses and give me the sword.” 

Athos took the sword in his hand, and the two gentlemen 
entered the church. 

Athos presented the holy water to Eaoul. The hearts of 
some fathers are gifted with the same thoughtful affection 
which a lover feels for his mistress. 

The young man touched Athos’s hand, bowed, and crossed 
himself. 

Athos said something to one of the vergers, who bowed and 
went toward the vaults. 

Come, Eaoul,” said Athos, let us follow this man.” 

The verger opened the grated door of the Eoyal tombs, and 
remained at the top of the stairs, while Athos and Eaoul de- 
scended them. The depths of this sepulchral staircase were 
lighted by a silver lamp burning on the lowest step ; and ex- 
actly underneath this lamp rested a coffin, supported on oak 
trestles, covered by a large mantle of violet-coloured velvet, 
sprinkled with golden fleur-de-lis. 

The youth, prepared for such a scene by the state of his own 
heart, then filled with sadness, and by the awful ma:jesty of 
the church he had just passed through, had descended the 
stairs with a slow and solemn step, and remained standing, 
with head uncovered, before the mortal remains of the last 
King, who was not to rejoin his ancestors until his successor 
came to rejoin him, and who appeared to remain there merely 


216 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


to say to human pride, so ready to boast when on a throne : j! 
Earthly dust, I wait for thee ! ” | 

There was a moment’s silence. \ 

Then Athos raised his hand, and pointing to the coffin : j 

‘‘ This imperfect sepulture,” said he, is that of a man who t 
was feeble and without grandeur, and who had yet a reign re- j 
plete with extraordinary events. It was because the mind of ( 
another hovered over that King, as that lamp does over his Î 
coffin and illumines it. That other was the real King, Kaoul ; | 
this was only a shadow into which he infused his soul. And 
yet, so powerful is the monarchical dignity with us, that that 
man has not even the honour of a tomb at the foot of him for 
whose glory he sacrificed his whole life. For that man, Kaoul, 
— and remember this, — if he degraded the King, yet elevated 
Royalty ; and there are two things enclosed in the walls of the 
Louvre — the King, who dies ; and Royalty, which never dies. 
That reign has passed away, Raoul. The minister so redoubted, 
so much feared, and so much hated by his master, has descended 
to the tomb, drawing after him the King, whom he did not 
wish to leave alone, for fear, no doubt, lest he should destroy 
his work ; for a King not sustained by God or the spirit of 
God is utterly valueless. But at that time every one looked ' 
on the Cardinal’s death as a deliverance; and I myself, so 
blind are contemporaries, often openly opposed the designs of 
that great man, who held France within his grasp, and who, as 
he tightened or relaxed it, smothered her, or gave her air, at 
Ids will. If he did not crush me and my friends in his terrible 
wrath, it was doubtless that I might this day say: Raoul, 
learn to distinguish between the King and Royalty. The 
Ring is only a man ; Royalty is the spirit of God. When you 
liave any doubt whom you should serve, abandon the material 
appearance for the invisible principle. For the invisible prin- 
ciple is everything. Only God has willed to make this 
principle palpable, by embodying it in a man. Raoul, I fancy 
that I can discover your future as through a cloud. It is 
better than ours, I think. In direct opposition to us, who had 
a minister without a King, you will have a King without a 
minister. You may therefore serve, honour, and respect the 
King. Should this King become a tyrant — for unlimited 
power has its intoxication, which impels it on to tyranny — yet 
serve, love, and respect Royalty. That is, the infallible 
ciple — that is, the spirit of God on earth — that is, that 


SAINT DENIS. 


217 


heavenly spark which makes the dust so great and so sacred 
that we, gentlemen of high birth though we are, are as insig- 
nificant before that body stretched on the last step of this 
staircase as that body itself is before the throne of our 
Saviour/’ 

I will worship God, sir,” said Kaoul ; “ I will respect 
Eoyalty ; I will serve the King ; and I will endeavour, if 1 
die, that it may be for the King, for Eoyalty, or for God. 
Have I rightly understood you ? ” 

Athos smiled. 

“ You have a noble nature,” said he. Here is your 
sword.” 

Eaoul bent his knee to the ground. 

It was borne by my father, a loyal gentleman. I after- 
ward carried it ; and I sometimes did it no discredit when its 
hilt was in my hand and its sheath was hanging by my side. If 
your hand is yet too weak to wield this sword, Eaoul, so much 
the better : you will have more time to learn never to draw it 
but when it ought to see the light.” 

Sir,” said Eaoul, as he received the sword from the 
Count’s hand, “ I owe everything to you ; and 3 ^et this sword 
is the most precious gift that you ever made me. I will bear 
it, believe me, as a grateful man.” 

And he put his lips to the hilt, and he kissed it respect- 
fully. 

It is well,” said Athos. Eise, Viscount, and let us 
embrace.” 

Eaoul arose and threw himself, with an overflowing heart, 
into Athos’s arms. 

“ Adieu ! ” murmured the Count, who felt his heart melting 
within him ; adieu, and think of me ! ” 

Oh, yes, forever, forever ! ” exclaimed the young man. 
“ Oh, yes, I swear it, sir ! and should any misfortune befall 
me, 3 "our name shall be the last that I will pronounce — my 
last thought shall be of you.” 

Athos mounted the steps hastily to conceal his emotion, 
gave a piece of gold to the verger, bowed to the altar, and 
with rapid steps gained the church porch, at the bottom of 
which Olivain was waiting with the horses. 

“ Olivain,” said he, pointing to Eaoul’s belt, tighten the 
buckle of that sword, which hangs too low. Very well. Kow 
you will accompany the Viscount till Grimaiid has joined him. 


218 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Wlien that is the case, you will quit the Viscount. Do you 
understand, Raoul ? Grimaud is an old servant, most cour- 
ageous and prudent, — Grimaud will serve you.” 

Yes, sir,” said Raoul. 

Now to horse, that I may see you depart.” 

Raoul obeyed. 

Adieu, Raoul,” said the Count ; adieu, my dear boy.” 

Adieu, sir,” said Raoul ; adieu, my most loved pro- 
tector ! ” 

Athos waved his hand, for he dared not speak ; and Raoul 
departed with head uncovered. 

Athos remained motionless, looking at his retreating figure 
until it disappeared round the corner of the street. Then he 
gave the bridle of his horse to a peasant, slowly remounted 
the steps, reentered the church, went and knelt down in the 
darkest corner, and prayed. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

ONE OP M. DE Beaufort’s forty methods of escape. 

In the meanwhile time was passing for the prisoner, as well 
as for those engaged in effecting his escape, only it was pass- 
ing with a slower current. Unlike some men, who eagerly 
undertake a perilous adventure, and grow cold as the moment 
of execution approaches, the Due de Beaufort, whose boiling 
courage was proverbial, and who had been chained down to 
inaction for five years, — the Due de Beaufort seemed to urge 
time forward, and to summon the moment for action with all 
his thoughts and all his aspirations. There was in his escape 
alone — apart from the future projects which he cherished — 
projects, it must be confessed, still rather vague and uncer- 
tain — a foretaste of vengeance which made his heart dilate. 
In the first place, his escape would be a sad blow upon M. de 
Chavigny, whom he hated for the petty persecutions he had 
inflicted on him ; and then it would be worse still for Mazarin, 
whom he execrated on account of this. You see his senti- 
ments were kept to proper proportions toward the governor 
and the minister, toward’ the underling and master. 

Then M. de Beaufort, who had such a complete knowledge 


ONE OF DE BEAUFOnr^S METHODS OF ESCAPE. 219 


of the interior of the Palais Poyal, and was not ignorant of 
the connection between the Cardinal and the Queen, pictured 
to himself, even in his prison, the dramatic commotion which 
was about to be excited when the cry resounded, from the 
Cardinal’s office to the Queen’s chamber, M. de Beaufort has 
escaped ! ” While saying all this to himself, M. de Beaufort 
smiled gently, and already fancied himself breathing the free 
air of the plains and the forests, grasping a vigorous horse be- 
tween his legs, and exclaiming, with a loud voice, I am free ! ” 

It is true that, on waking from such day-dreams, he found 
himself between his four walls ; saw La Pâmée at ten paces’ 
distance from him, twirling his thumbs as usual ; and in the 
antechamber his eight guards, either laughing or drinking. 

The only thing that refreshed him in this odious picture, so 
great is the instability of the human mind, was Grimaud’s 
sour countenance — that countenance which he had first hated 
so much, and which had now become his only hope. Grimaud 
seemed to him an Antinoos. 

It is unnecessary to say that all this was a play of the pris- 
oner’s excited imagination. Grimand was still the same ; he 
had, therefore, retained the confidence of La Ramée, his supe- 
rior, who now would trust to him more willingly than to him- 
self ; for we have said that La Ramée felt at his heart a 
certain weak partiality for M. de Beaufort. 

Therefore the good La Ramée made a sort of celebration of 
this little tete-a-tete supper with his prisoner. La Ramée had 
but one fault — he was a gourmand; he had found the pies 
good, the wine excellent. Now, Father Marteau’s successor 
had promised him a pie of pheasant instead of chicken, and 
vin de Chambertin instead of vin de Mâcon. All this, set off 
by the presence of that excellent Prince, who was such a good 
fellow at heart, who invented such droll tricks against M. de 
Chavigny, and such capital jokes against Mazarin, caused the 
approaching Whitsuntide to be one of the four great festivals 
of the year to the worthy La Ramée. 

La Ramée therefore longed for six o’clock in the evening as 
impatiently as the Puke. 

Since the morning he had been engaged in all the prepara- 
tions, and trusting to no one but himself, had paid a visit to 
Father Marteau’s successor. He had even surpassed himself: 
he showed him a regular monster of a pie, adorned on the 
top with M. de Beaufort’s arms. The pie was as yet empty. 


220 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


but by its sidewas a pheasant and two partridges, so finely 
larded that each one looked like a pincushion. La Ramee’s 
mouth had' watered, and he came back to the Duke’s apartment 
rubbing his hands. 

To complete his happiness, M. de Chavigny, having, as we 
have said, entire confidence in La Ramée, was gone on a short 
journey. He had set out that very morning, and this at once 
constituted La Ramée the deputy -governor of the chateau. 

Grimaud appeared more surly than ever. 

In the morning M. de Beaufort had played at ball with La 
Ramée. A sign from Grimaud had mUde him comprehend 
that he was to pay attention to everything. 

Grimaud, walking in front, tracéd' the road they were to 
follow in the evening. The game was in what was called the 
enclosure of the little court of the chateau. It was a very 
solitary spot, where sentinels were not placed except when M. 
de Beaufort was playing, and, from the height of the wall, 
even this precaution seemed superfluous. 

There were three doors to open before reaching this enclos- 
ure. Each was opened with a different key, which keys La 
Ramée carried. 

On reaching the enclosure Grimaud seated himself mechan- 
ically near a loop-hole, with his legs hanging outside the wall. 
It was evident, therefore, that the rope ladder was to be sus- 
pended from this place. 

All this whole manoeuvre, well understood by the Due de 
Beaufort, was, of course, quite unintelligible to La Ramée. 

The game began. This time M. de Beaufort was in good 
form, and sent the balls wherever he liked. La Ramée was 
completely beaten. 

Four of M. de Beaufort’s guards had followed him, and 
picked up the balls. When the game was finished, the Duke, 
while laughing at La Ramée for his bad play, offered the 
guards two louis to go and drink his health with their comrades. 

The guards asked La Ramée’s permission, and he granted it, 
but not until the evening. Up to the very time. La Ramée 
had to attend to important preparations ; and as he had to go 
out he wished that they should not lose sight of the prisoner 
during his absence. 

Had M. de Beaufort arranged everything himself, he prob- 
ably would not have managed it so completely to his satisfac- 
tion and convenience as his jailer had done. 


ONE OF DE BEAUFORT'S METHODS OF ESCAPE. 221 

last it struck six. Although they were not to sit down 
till seven, everything was served and ready. On a sideboard 
was the gigantic pie, with the Duke’s arms, and appearing to 
be cooked to perfection, as far as could be judged from the 
golden colour illuminating its crust. 

The rest of the dinner was in keeping. 

All were impatient — the guards to go and drink. La Ramée 
to get to eating, and M. de Beaufort to escape. 

Grimaud alone was unmoved. It might have been imagined 
that Athos had trained him in anticipation of this great 
occasion. 

There were moments when M. de Beaufort, looking at him, 
asked himself whether it were not a dream, and whether this 
marble figure were really at his command, and would become 
animate at the critical moment. 

La Ramée dismissed the guards, with orders to drink the 
Prince’s health. Then, when they were gone, he shut the 
doors, put the keys in his pocket, and pointed to the table in a 
manner that signified : When monseigneur shall please.” 

The Prince looked at Grimaud ; Grimaud looked at the 

clock : it was scarcely a quarter past six ; the escape was 

fixed for seven o’clock. So there was more than three-quarters 
of an hour to wait. 

The Prince, to gain a quarter of an hour, pretended to want 
to finish a chapter he was reading, and which greatly interested 
him. La Ramée went up to him and looked over his shoulder 
to see what book could have such extraordinary influence over 
the Prince as to prevent his sitting down when dinner was 

served. It was ^^Cæsar’s Commentaries,” which he himself 

had procured for him three days before, contrary to M. de 
Chavigny’s orders. 

La Ramée made a secret resolve never again to contravene 
the prison rules. 

In the meantime he uncorked the bottles, and took a smell 
at the pie. 

At half-past six the Duke arose, and said, with the utmost 
gravity, 

Cæsar was decidedly the greatest man of ancient times.” 

Do you think so, monseigneur ? ” said La Ramée. 

Yes.” 

Well, now, I prefer Hannibal,” replied La Ramée. 

And why so. Master la Ramée ? ” inquired the Duke. 


222 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Because he did not leave any Commentaries/’ said La 
Ramée, with his coarse laugh. 

The Duke understood the hint, and placed himself at table, 
making a sign for La Ramée to take the opposite seat. 

The officer did not require a repetition of the invitation. 

There is no countenance more expressive than that of a 
genuine gourmand who finds himself at a good table. There- 
fore, on receiving his plate of soup from Grimaud, La Ramée’s 
face bore an expression of most perfect felicity. 

The Duke looked at him with a smile. 

“Ventre-Saint gris. La Ramée!” he exclaimed; “do you 
know that if any one were to tell me that there is, at this mo- 
ment, a man in France happier than you are, I would not 
believe him ? ” 

“ And, faith, you would be right, monseigneur ! ” answerd La 
Ramée. “ I confess that when I am hungry I know of nothing 
more agreeable to see than a well-spread table. And if you 
add,” continued La Ramée, “ that he who does the honours at 
this table is the grandson of Henry the Great, then you will 
understand, monseigneur, that the honour received doubles the 
pleasure I experience.” 

The Prince bowed in turn, and an imperceptible smile ap- 
peared on Grimaud’s countenance, as he stood behind La 
Ramée. 

“ My dear La Ramée,” said the Duke, “ no one can turn a 
compliment like yourself.” 

“Hay, monseigneur,” said La Ramée, in the exuberance of 
liis feelings, — “nay, I say what I actually think; there is 
nothing complimentary in my words.” 

“ Then you are really attached to me ? ” asked the Duke. 

“ I can only say that I should be inconsolable if your High- 
ness were to leave Vincennes,” replied La Ramée. 

“ A droll manner of testifying your affliction for me.” 

The Prince meant to say “ affection.” 

“ But, monseigneur,” said La Ramée, what would you do if 
you were out ? Some folly that would embroil you with the 
Court, and get you into the Bastille, instead of being at Vin- 
cennes. M. de Chavigny is not an amiable man, I confess,” 
continued La Ramée, sipping a glass of Madeira, ^‘but M. de 
Tremblay is much worse.” 

“ Really ? ” said the Duke, who was greatly amused at the 
turn the conversation was taking, and who kept looking from 


ONE OF DE BEAl^FORT' S METHODS OF ESCAPE, 223 


time to time at the clock, the minute-hand of which appeared 
to be desperately lazy in its motions. 

“ But what could you expect from the brother of a Capucin 
brought up at the school of the Cardinal de Richelieu ? Ah, 
monseigneur ! believe me that it is a most fortunate thing 
that the Queen, who, as I heard say, has always wished you 
well, thought of sending you here, where there is a promenade, 
a tennis-court, a good table, good air.” 

Really, La Ramée, to hear you,” said the Duke, “ I must be 
an ungrateful fellow ever to have thought of leaving the place.” 

Oh, monseigneur, it is the height of ingratitude ! ” replied 
La Ramée ; but your Highness never can have seriously 
thought of it.” 

‘‘ Yes, I have,” replied the Duke ; and I must confess, it 
may perhaps be foolish. I do not say that it is not so ; but 
from time to time I think of it, even now.” 

“ And always by one of your forty methods, monseigneur ? ” 

“ Why, yes,” replied the Duke. 

‘^Monseigneur, as we are opening our hearts,” said La 
Ramée, “ tell me one of those forty methods which your High- 
ness has invented.” 

“ Most willingly,” said the Duke. “ Grimaud, give me the 
pie.” 

“ I am listening,” said La Ramée, throwing himself back in 
his easy -chair, raising his glass, and, with one eye shut, look- 
ing at the sun through the ruby -coloured liquid it contained. 

The Duke cast a glance at the clock : it wanted only ten 
minutes to seven. 

Grimaud placed the pie before the Duke, who took his 
knife with the silver blade to remove the covering ; but La 
Ramée, who feared that some misfortune might happen to 
this beautiful fabric, handed him his own knife, which had an 
iron blade. 

“ Thank you. La Ramée,” said the Duke, taking the knife. 

“ Well, monseigneur,” said the officer, “now for your famous 
method.” 

“ Must I tell you,” replied the Duke, “ that upon which I 
depended the most — that which I had resolved to employ at 
the first ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! that one,” said La Ramée. 

“ Weli, then,” said the Duke, digging into the pie with one 
hand and describing a circle with his knife with tlie other, “ in 


224 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


the first place I hoped to have such an excellent fellow as you 
are, Monsieur La Kamée, for my jailer.’^ 

“Good!” said La Eainee ; “you have him, monseigneur. 
And what then ? ” 

“ And I congratulate myself upon it.” 

La Earnee bowed. 

“ I said to myself,” continued the Prince, “ if' ever I have 
near me a good fellow like La Eamée, I shall try to have 
recommended to him, by some friend of mine with whom he 
knows not that I am connected, a man completely devoted to 
me, with whom I may devise means of escape.” 

“ (!ome, come,” said La Eamée, “ that is not a bad idea.” 

“jS^o, it is not, is it?” replied the Duke. “For instance, 
the servant of some worthy gentleman, himself an enemy to 
Mazarin, as every gentleman ought to be.” 

“ Hush, monsiegneur ! let us not talk politics.” 

“When I have this man near me,” continued the Duke, “if 
he is clever sand win my jailer’s confidence, trust will be re- 
posed in him, and then I shall have news from without.” 

“ Ah, yes,” said La Eamée, “ but how can you get news 
from without ?” ^ 

“ Oh, nothing easier,” replied the Due de Beaufort ; “ in 
playing tennis, for example.” 

“ In playing tennis ? ” said La Eamée, beginning to pay the 
most intense attention to the Duke’s words. 

. “Yes. Observe now : I send a ball into the moat ; a man is 
there who picks it up ; the ball contains a letter ; instead of 
throwing me back the ball I asked for from the top of the 
rampart, he sends me back another ; this other ball contains a 
letter ; thus we have exchanged our ideas, and no one knows 
anything about it.” 

“ The devil ! the devil ! ” said La Eamée, scratching his ear ; 

“ you do well to tell me this, monseigneur. I will look to 
these ball-pickers.” 

The Duke smiled. 

“ But,” continued La Eamée, “ all this, after all, is only 
a means of correspondence.” 

“ But that is a good deal, I think,” replied the Duke. 

“ But not enough,” said La Eamée. 

“ I beg your pardon. For example, I say to my friends : 

^ On such a day, at such an hour, you must be on the other 
side of the moat with two saddle horses.’ ” 



IF YOU MOVE, OR SAY ONE WORD, YOU ARE A DEAD MAN!” 








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S 




1 


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ONE OF DE BEAUFORT^ S METHODS OF ESCAPE. 225 

Well, and what then ? said La Ramée, with some uneasi- 
ness ; unless, indeed, these horses have wings, so as to mount 
the rampart and come for you.” 

Oh, mon Dieu ! ” said the Duke carelessly, there is no 
necessity that the horses should have wings to mount the 
rampart, but merely that I myself should have some means of 
descending it.” 

What ? ” 

A rope ladder.” 

Yes,” said La Ramée, trying to laugh, but a rope ladder 
cannot be conveyed in a tennis-ball, like a letter.” 

No ; but it may be sent in something else.” 

In something else — in something else ? In what ? ” 

In a pie, for example.” 

In a pie ? ” exclaimed La Ramée. 

Yes. Let us suppose one thing,” replied the Duke ; let 
us suppose, for instance, that my house-steward, Noirmont, had 
bought Father Marteau’s shop ” — 

“Well,” said La Ramée, shuddering, 

“Well, La Ramée, who is a gourmand, sees his pies, finds 
that they have a better appearance than those of his prede- 
cessor, and comes and offers to let me taste them. I agree to 
it on condition that La Ramée tastes them with me. To be 
more completely at his ease. La Ramée dismisses the guards 
and keeps only Grimaud to wait upon us. Grimaud is the 
man sent me by my friend — the servant with whom I secretly 
plot, and who is ready to second me in everything. The 
moment for my escape is fixed at seven o’clock. Well, at a 
few minutes before seven ” — 

“ At a few minutes before seven? ” gasped La Ramée, from 
whose forehead the perspiration began to trickle. 

“ At a few minutes before seven,” continued the Duke, suit- 
ing the action to the words, “ I take off the crust from the pie, 
and in it I find two daggers, a rope ladder, and a gag. I clap 
one of these daggers to La Ramée’s breast, and I say to him : 
‘ My friend, I ain inexpressibly sorry for it, but if you move, 
or say one word, you are a dead man ! ’ ” 

We have said that on pronouncing these last words the 
Duke suited the action to them. The Duke was standing near 
him, and was holding the point of the dagger to his breast, in 
a manner that left no doubt of his intentions. 

In the meantime Grimaud, as silent as ever, drew the 


226 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


second dagger, tlie rope ladder, and the choke-pear from the 
pie. 

La Ramée perceived each of these objects with looks of 
increased terror. 

“ Oh, monseigneur ! ’’ he exclaimed, looking at the Duke in 
such utter stupefaction as at any other time would have made 
him roar with laughter, you will not have the heart to kill 
me ! ’’ 

‘Œot unless you oppose my flight.” 

But, monseigneur, if I let you escape, I am a ruined man.” 

I will make you compensation for the loss of your posi- 
tion.” 

And you are really determined to leave the chateau ? ” 

“ Pardieu ! ” 

Nothing that I can say will make you change your reso- 
lution ? ” 

This evening I must be free.” 

And if I resist — if I call, or cry out ? ” 

On the word of a gentleman, I will kill you.” 

At this moment the clock struck. 

“ Seven o’clock ! ” said Grimaud, who had not yet spoken a 
word. 

Seven o’clock,” repeated the Duke ; you see that I am 
late.” 

La Ramée made a motion as if to satisfy his conscience. 

The Duke frowned, and the officer felt the point of the 
dagger, which, after having penetrated- his dress, was just go- 
ing to pierce his breast. 

“Well, monseigneur,” said he, “that is quite sufficient; I 
will not stir.” 

“ Let us make haste,” said the Duke. 

“ A last favour, monseigneur ? ” 

“ What is it ? Speak — be quick ! ” 

“ Bind me, monseigneur.” 

“ And why ? ” 

“ That I may not be considered your accomplice.” 

“ Your hands ! ” said Grimaud to him. 

“ Not before — behind me, behind.” 

“ But with what ? ” said the Duke. 

“ With your girdle, monseigneur,” replied La Ramée. 

The Duke took off his belt and gave it to Grimaud, who 
bound his hands in a most satisfactory manner, 


ONE OF DE BEAUFORT'S METHODS OF ESCAPE. 227 
Your feet ! ” said Grimaud. 

La Ramée stretched out his legs : Grimaud took a napkin, 
tore it into strips, and bound La Ramée. 

Now my sword,’’ said La Ramée, — tie up the hilt of my 
sword.” 

The Duke tore off one of the ribands from his breeches, 
and performed his jailer’s wish. 

“Now,” said poor La Ramée, “I want the choke-pear; 
without that they will call me to account for not having cried 
out. Put it in deep, monseigneur, — stuff it in ! ” 

Grimaud set to work to obey the officer’s directions, but he 
made a sign that he had something more to say. 

“ Speak,” said the Duke. 

“ Now, monseigneur,” continued La Ramée, “ should any 
misfortune befall me on your account, do not forget that I 
have a wife and four children.” 

“ Make yourself perfectly easy. Stuff it in, Grimaud ! ” 

In a second La Ramée was gagged and laid on the ground, 
and two or three chairs were overturned, as if there had been 
a struggle. Grimaud then took all the keys from the officer’s 
pocket, first opened the door of the room where they were, 
and double-locked it when they had gone out ; then they 
hastily went through the gallery leading to the little enclos- 
ure ; the three doors were successively opened and shut with a 
promptitude that did great honour to Grimaud’s skill. At last 
they reached the tennis-court ; it was quite deserted — no 
sentinel, no one at the windows. 

The Duke ran to the rampart and saw three horsemen on 
the other side of the moat, with two led horses. He ex- 
changed a sign with them ; they were waiting for him. 

In the meantime Grimaud was fastening the rope that 
was to give them liberty. It was not a rope ladder, but a 
clew of silk on a stick, which was to pass through the legs, 
and unwind itself by the weight of him who was straddled 
on it. 

“ Go ! ” said the Duke. 

“ The first, monseigneur ? ” inquired Grimaud. 

“ Certainly,” said the Duke. “ If I am caught, I run only 
the risk of imprisonment; if you are caught, you will be 
hanged.” 

“ That ’s true,” said Grimaud. 

And immediately setting himself astride on the stick, he 


228 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


began his perilous descent. The Duke followed him with 
involuntary fear. He had already accomplished three-fourths 
of his descent when the cord suddenly broke. Grimaud fell 
head-first into the moat. 

The Duke called out, but Grimaud uttered no complaint ; 
and yet he must have been seriously hurt, for he remained 
motionless on the spot where he had fallen. 

Instantly one of the men who was waiting slipped down 
into the moat and fastened a rope to Grimaud’s shoulders ; 
the two others, who held the other end of the rope, drew him 
up to them. 

Come down, monseigneur,’’ said the man in the trench ; 
there are not more than fifteen feet to fall, and the grass is 
soft.” 

The Duke had already commenced operations. His per- 
formance was more difficult, for he had no stick to support him. 
He was, therefore, obliged to descend by the strength of his 
hands, and that from a height of fifty feet. But as we have 
said, he was active, vigorous, and cool ; in less than five min- 
utes he found himself at the end of the cord. As the gentle- 
man had told him, he was now not more than fifteen feet from 
the earth ; he therefore let go his hold, and fell on his feet 
without hurting himself. 

He then mounted the shelving bank of the moat, on the 
summit of which he found Rochefort. The other gentlemen 
were unknown to him. Grimaud, still insensible, was fastened 
to a horse. 

Gentlemen,” said the Duke, I will thank you hereafter, 
but at present we have not a moment to lose. Forward, then, 
forward ! He who loves me follows me.” 

And he threw himself on his horse, and set off at full gallop, 
eagerly inhaling every breeze, and crying out, with an expres- 
sion of joy quite impossible to describe ; 

Free ! — Free ! — Free ! ” 


D'ARTAGNAN ARRIVES IN THE NICK OF TIME. 229 


i CHAPTER XXVI. 

i' , 

: DArTAGNAN arrives just in THE NICK OF TIME. 

D’Artagnan received at Blois the sum that Mazarin, from 
his anxiety to see him again as soon as possible, had persuaded 
, himself to give him for his future services. 

From Blois to Paris was a four days’ journey for an ordinary 
horseman. D’Artagnan reached the barrier of St. Denis about 
i four o’clock in the afternoon of the third day. Formerly he 
!| would have only taken two days ; and we have already seen 
jj that Athos, having left home three hours later, had arrived 
!| four-and-twenty hours before. 

!j Planchet was out of the habit of these forced journeys, and 
|! D’Artagnan reproached him for his effeminacy. 

I Well, sir,” replied he, forty leagues in three days is, I 
'I think, pretty good for a burnt-almond seller.” 

And you really are become a shopkeeper, Planchet ? And 
do you seriously intend, now that we have met again, to vege- 
tate in your shop ? ” 

Sir,” answered Planchet, “ you alone are formed for a life 
of activity. Look at M. Athos. Who would say that he was 
j the famous knight-errant that we knew of old ? He now lives 
j like a regular gentleman farmer, or a true lord of the soil, 
j Depend upon it, sir, there is nothing so desirable as a tranquil 
existence.” 

: “ Hypocrite ! ” said D’Artagnan ; it is plain enough that 

you are drawing near Paris, and that in Paris a cord and a gal- 
. lows await you.” 

In fact, at this point of the conversation the two travellers 
reached the barrier. Planchet drew his hat over his eyes, con- 
sidering that he was going to pass through some streets where 
he was well known, and D’Artagnan raised his mustache, on 
thinking of Porthos, who must be expecting him in the Rue 
Tiquetonne. He thought of the means of making him forget 
his lordship of De Bracieux and the Homeric kitchens of 
Pierrefonds. 

On turning the corner of the Rue Montmartre, he discovered 
Porthos at one of the windows of the Hôtel de la Chevrette, in 
a splendid coat of celestial blue, embroidered with silver, and 
yawning so as almost to dislocate his jaw ; so that the passers- 


230 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


by contemplated with respectful admiration that gentleman so • 
rich and handsome who appeared to be wearied of his wealth 
and his grandeur. 

Scarcely had D’Artagnan and Planchet turned the corner of 
the street, when Porthos saw them. 

“ Ah, D’Artagnan,” he exclaimed. Praised be God, it is 
you ! ’’ 

“ Ah ! how are you, my dear friend ? ” inquired D’ Artagnan. ; 
A small knot of idlers soon formed round the horses and ! 
the stable-boys who held them, and the cavaliers who were j 
talking in such an important way ; but a frown from D’ Arta- \ 
gnan, and a threatening gesture from Planchet, well under- | 
stood by them, dispersed the crowd, which was becoming I 
more numerous precisely because it did not know why it had ^ 
collected. [ 

Porthos had already come down to the door. | 

Ah, my dear friend,” said he, how badly off my horses | 
are here ! ” | 

Indeed ! ” said D’ Artagnan. I am sincerely grieved for } 

those noble animals.” 1 

“ And I myself also,” said Porthos, was badly off too ; and j 
had it not been for the hostess,” continued he, swaying on his j 
legs, with his grand air of self-satisfaction, ‘‘ who is handsome \ 
enough, and understands a joke, I must inevitably have looked | 
for lodgings somewhere else.” I 

The fair Madeline, who had drawn near during this dialogue, 3 
stepped back and turned pale as death on hearing Porthos’s 
words, for she expected a second edition of the Swiss scene ; 
but, to her great astonishment, D' Artagnan did not even frown, I 
and instead of being angry, he said to Porthos, laughing : 

Yes, I comprehend, my dear friend. The air of the Rue 
Tiquetonne is not equal to that of the valley of Pierrefonds. 
But never mind ; I will soon take you where it is better.” ( 
And when ?” 

Faith, very shortly, I hope ! ” 

Ah, so much the better ! ” i 

This exclamation of Porthos was followed by a low and length- j 
ened groan issuing from a corner behind the door. D' Artagnan, 
who had just dismounted, then saw Mousqueton’s enormous 
paunch outlined against the wall ; from his lugubrious throat 
those doleful plaints had been emitted. 

‘‘ And you also, my poor Mouston, you are out of your ele- 


D'ARTAGNAN ARRIVES IN THE NICK OF TIME. 231 

ment in this miserable hôtel, — is it not so ? ” asked D’Arta- 
gnan, in that bantering tone which, perhaps, had in it as niiu;h 
compassion as mockery. 

“ He finds the cooking detestable,” said Porthos. 

“ Why, then, does he not take it into his own hands, as at 
Chantilly ? ” said D’Artagnan. 

Ah, sir ! ” said Mouston, ‘‘ I have not here, as I had there, 
the Prince’s stews, where I took the large carp, and his High- 
ness’s forests, where I caught the fine partridges in nets. As 
for the cellar, I have thoroughly examined it, and really it is 
but a poor concern.” 

M. Mouston,” said D’Artagnan, “ I should really pity you 
if I had not just now something of more pressing importance 
to attend to.” 

Then taking Porthos aside : 

“My dear Du Vallon,” said he, “here you are already 
dressed ; and it is fortunate, for I am going to take you imme- 
diately to the Cardinal.” 

“ E-eally ? ” said Porthos, opening his eyes wide with aston- 
ishment. 

“ Yes, my friend.” 

“ An introduction ? ” 

“ Does that frighten you ? ” 

“Ho ; but it causes me some emotion.” 

“ Oh, never mind. You have not to appear before the other 
Cardinal, and this one will not crush you by the weight of his 
dignity.” 

“ nevertheless, you understand, D’Artagnan, — the Court ! ” 

“ Ah, but, my friend, there is no longer a Court.” 

“ The Queen ! ” 

“ I was near saying there is no longer a Queen. The Queen ? 
Pluck up your courage, we shall not see her.” 

“ And do you say that we are going immediately to the 
.I'alais Royal ? ” 

“Immediately. Only, to prevent delay, I will borrow one ’ 
of your horses.” 

They are all four at your service.” 

“ Oh, I only want one for the present.” 

“ Shall we not take our servants with us ? ” 

Ytis, take Mousqueton; he may be useful. As for Planchet, 
he f)a;i Ids reasons for not going to Court.” 

“ A lid why ? ” 


232 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Oh, he is on bad terms with his Eminence/’ 

Houston,” said Porthos, saddle Vulcan and Bayard.” 
And shall I take Rustaud, sir ? ” 

“ No, take a show-horse — take Phoebus or Superb. We 
are going on a visit of ceremony.” 

Ah ! ” said. Mousqueton, breathing freely again, we are 
only going to pay a visit, then ? ” 

Oh, yes, Houston,” said D’Artagnan, nothing else. Only, 
to be prepared, put pistols Jnto the holsters. You will find 
mine loaded at my saddle.” 

Houston sighed. He did not thoroughly understand these 
visits of ceremony, which they made armed to the teeth. 

Really,” said Porthos, looking complacently at his retiring 
valet, you are right, D’Artagnan. Houston will do 5 he makes 
a very handsome appearance.” 

D’Artagnan smiled. 

“ And you,” continued Porthos, — are you not going to 
change your dress ? ” 

No, I remain as I am.” 

‘‘But you are entirely covered with perspiration and dust, 
and your boots are dreadfully splashed.” 

“ This careless travelling costume will testify my eagerness 
to obey the Cardinal’s injunctions.” 

At this moment Mousqueton returned, with the three horses 
fully equipped. D’Artagnan mounted as if he had just been 
taking a week’s rest. 

“ Oh,” said he to Planchet, “ my long sword ” — 

“ I,” said Porthos, pointing to a slight dress sword wi. h a 
golden hilt, “ I have my Court sword.” 

“ Take your rapier, my friend.” 

“ And why ? ” 

“ I do not know — but at any rate take it.” 

“ My rapier, Houston,” cried Porthos. 

“ But this is a regular war equipment, sir ! ” said he. “ Are 
we going on a campaign ? Tell it me at once, and 1 will take 
my precautions accordingly.” 

“ With us, Houston,” replied D’Artagnan, “ you know \ ery 
well it is always right to take precaution. Either \ ou liare a 
very bad memory or you have forgotten that we were not ac- 
customed to pass our nights at balls and serenades.’ 

“Alas! that is true,” said Mousqueton, as he aniec^ him- 
self from top to toe ; “ but I had forgotten it.” 


D'^ARTAGNAN ARRIVES IN THE NICK OF TIME!. 288 

They set off at a good pace, and reached the Palais Cardinal 
at about a quarter past seven. There was a considerable 
crowd in the streets, for it was Whitsunday ; and this crowd 
gazed with astonishment at the two cavaliers, one of whom 
was so fresh that he looked as if he had just come out of a 
bandbox, while the other was as completely covered with 
dust as if he had just left a battlefield. 

Mousqueton also attracted the observation of the curious 
idlers ; and as the romance of Don Quixote ’’ was then much in 
vogue, some said that it was Sancho, who, having lost one 
master, had found two. 

On reaching the antechamber, D’Artagnan found himself in 
a well-known country. The Musketeers of his own company 
were on guard. He ordered the groom of the chamber to be 
called, to whom he showed the Cardinal’s letter, enjoining him 
to return without a second’s delay. The groom of the chamber 
bowed, and went to his Eminence’s apartment. 

D’Artagnan turned toward Porthos, and thought he saw a 
slight degree of agitation. He smiled, and putting his mouth 
to his ear : 

Courage, my worthy friend,” said he. Do not be nervous. 
Believe me, the eagle’s eye is closed, and we are now dealing 
with a mere vulture. Keep yourself stiff and unbending, as 
on the day of the bastion of St. Gervais, and do not bow too 
low to this Italian ; it would give him a mean opinion of 
you.” 

u Very well, very well,” answered Porthos. 

The groom of the chamber reappeared. 

Enter, gentlemen,” said he ; his Eminence is waiting for 
you.” 

Mazarin was seated in his cabinet, endeavouring to erase as 
many names as possible from the pension and benefice list. 
From the corner of his eye he saw D’Artagnan and Porthos 
enter; and although, on first hearing them announced by the 
groom of the chamber, his eyes had sparkled with delight, he 
externally betrayed no emotion. 

Ah ! it is you, is it, lieutenant ? ” said he. You have 
been expeditious ; that ’s well. You are welcome.” 

Thanks, mon signor. Here I am at your Eminence’s com- 
mands, as also is M. du Vallon, one of my old friends, who 
; concealed his rank under the name of Porthos.” 

Porthos bowed to the Cardinal. 


234 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


A superb cavalier,” said Mazarin. 

Portlios turned his head right and left and moved his 
shoulders in a manner full of dignity. 

The best sword in the realm, monsignor,” said D’Artagnan ; 
and many know it who do not say so, and who, indeed, can- 
not say so.” 

Porthos bowed to D’Artagnan. 

Mazarin loved handsome soldiers almost as much as 
Frederick of Prussia loved them in after-times. He began to 
admire the sinewy hands, broad shoulders, and determined 
look of Porthos. He fancied that he saw before him the safety 
of his ministry and of the realm, cut out of flesh and bone. 
This recalled to his memory that the old association of the 
Musketeers consisted of four persons. 

And your two other friends ? ” demanded Mazarin. 

Porthos opened his mouth, thinking it a good opportunity 
for putting in a word in his turn. D’Artagnan gave him a 
sign from the corner of his eye. 

Our other friends,” said he, are at present prevented. 
They will join us later.” 

Mazarin coughed slightly. 

And this gentleman, — more at liberty than they are, — is 
he willing to reenter the service ? ” demanded Mazarin. î 

Yes, monsignor, and that from pure devotion ; for M. de i 
Bracieux is rich.” i 

Eich ? ” said Mazarin, in whom this single word always 
had the power of inspiring great consideration. ; 

Fifty thousand livres’ income,” said Porthos. 

This was the first word he had spoken. | 

Out of pure devotion,” replied Mazarin, with his sly smile, 
— out of pure devotion ? ” 

Perhaps monsignor does not believe in that expression ? ” | 
suggested D’Artagnan. 

“ And you yourself. Sir Gascon ? ” said Mazarin, resting I 
his elbows on his desk and his chin on both his hands. ' 
I ? ” said D’Artagnan ; I have as much faith in devotion ; 
as in a baptismal name, which, of course, ought naturally to be , 
followed by a surname. A man is certainly more or less I 
devoted ; but it is always necessary that there should be some- ' 
thing at the end of devotion.” 

And your friend, for instance, — what crowning object 
would he wish to have at the end of his devotion?” 


D'ARTACNAN ARRIVES IN THE NICK OF TIME. 235 


‘‘ W ell, monsignor, my friend has three magnificent estates 
that of Du V allon, at Corbeil ; that of De Bracieux, in the 
Soissonnais; and that of Pierrefonds, in the Valois. Now, 
monsignor, he desires to have one of tliese estates erected into 
a barony.” 

“ Is that all ? ” demanded Mazarin, whose eyes sparkled 
with joy on perceiving that he could reward Porthos’s devotion 
without opening his purse. Is that all ? The thing can be 
managed.” 

I shall be a baron ! ” murmured Porthos, making one step 
forward. 

‘‘ I told you so,” said D’Artagnan, keeping him back with 
his hand ; and monsignor reiterates my assurance.” 

And you, M. d’Artagnan, — what do you want ? ” 
Monsignor, next September it will be twenty years since 
Cardinal Richelieu made me a lieutenant.” 

Yes ; and you would like Cardinal Mazarin to make you a 
captain.” 

D’Artagnan bowed. 

Well, all this is not an impossibility ; we shall see, gentle- 
men, we shall see. Now, M. du Vallon,” said Mazarin, what 
kind of service do you prefer ? That of the city or of the 
country ? ” 

Porthos opened his mouth to reply. 

Monsignor,” said D’Artagnan, M. du Vallon is like my- 
self, he prefers extraordinary service ; that is to say, such 
enterprises as are deemed mad and impossible.” 

This gasconade did not displease Mazarin, who began to 
think. 

And yet I will confess to you that I sent for you to give 
you a sedentary post. I have certain anxieties. But what is 
the matter now ? ” cried Mazarin. 

In fact, a great noise was heard in the antechamber, and al- 
most at the same time the door of the cabinet was thrown open, 
and a man, covered with dust, rushed into the room, exclaiming. 
The Cardinal ! Where is the Cardinal ? ” 

Mazarin thought that it was an attempt at assassination, 
and drew back, putting himself behind his easy-chair. 
D’Artagnan and Porthos threw themselves between the Car- 
dinal and the intruder. 

^^Ah, sir,” said Mazarin, ‘^what is the matter, that 3mucome 
in here as if it were the market-place ?” 


236 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Monsignor,” said the officer whom he thus reproached, two 
words with you. I wish to speak to you immediately and 
alone. I am M. de Poins, an officer of the Guards, on duty at | 
the prison of Vincennes.” 

The officer was so pale and agitated that Mazarin, convinced ' 
that he was the bearer of some important intelligence, made a 
sign to D’Artagnan and Porthos to give way to him. They 
therefore retired into a corner of the apartment. 

Speak, sir, — speak quickly ! ” cried Mazarin ; what is 
the matter ? ” 

‘^The matter is,” said the messenger, ‘^that M. de Beaufort 
has just escaped from the Chateau of Vincennes.” 

Mazarin uttered an exclamation, and became as pale as the 
man who had given him this information. He fell back into 
his chair as if he had been thunderstruck. 

Escaped ! ” cried he ; M. de Beaufort escaped ! ” 

Monsignor, I saw him in full flight, from the summit of 
the terrace.” 

‘‘ And why did you not fire down on him ? ”' 

“ He was out of range.” 

But M. de Chavigny — what was he doing ? ” 

He was absent.” 

‘‘ And La Eamée ? ” 

He was found bound in the prisoner’s room, a gag in his 
mouth and a dagger by his side.” 

And that man whom he had engaged ? ” 

‘‘ He was the Duke’s accomplice, and escaped with him.” 

Mazarin groaned. 

Monsignor,” said D’Artagnan, advancing one step toward 
the Cardinal. 

What ? ” said Mazarin. 

It seems to me that your Eminence is losing precious time.” 

“ How so ? ” 

“ If your Eminence were to order the prisoner pursued, per- 
haps he might even yet be overtaken. France is extensive, 
and the nearest frontier is sixty leagues off.” 

And who would pursue him ? ” cried Mazarin. 

I, pardieu ! ” 

And would you arrest him ? ” 

Why not ? ” 

You would arrest the Due de Beaufort, armed, in the 
field ? ” 


D'ARTAGNAN ARRIVES IN THE NICK OF TIME. 237 


“ If monsignor were to command me to arrest the devil him- 
self I would lay hold of him by the horns and briog him to 
you.’’ 

And so would I/’ said Porthos. 

And you would also ! ” said Mazarin, looking at the two 
men with astonishment. But the Duke will not yield with- 
out a desperate resistance.” 

Well,” said D’Artagnan, his eyes flashing, battle ! It is 
a long time since we have fought, is it not, Porthos ? ” 

Battle ! ” said Porthos. 

“ And you think that you can overtake him ? ” 

Yes, if we are better mounted than he is.” 

Then take what Guards you may find here and pu 
him.” 

And do you give the order, monsignor ? ” 

I set my name to it,” said Mazarin, taking some pap 
and writing a few lines. 

Add, monsignor, that we may take all the horses that we 
may meet on the road.” 

^^Yes, yes,” said Mazarin, the King’s service! Take it 
and be off ! ” 

^^Good, monsignor.” 

“ Monsieur du Vallon, your barony is on the Due de Beau- 
fort’s crupper ; all you have to do is to catch him. As for you, 
my dear M. d’Artagnan, I promise you nothing ; but if you 
bring him back, dead or alive, you may ask for what you like.” 

“ To horse, Porthos ! ” said D’Artagnan, taking his friend’s 
hand. 

Here I am,” answered Porthos, with his sublime imper- 
turbability. 

And they went down the grand staircase, taking with them 
the Guards they met, and crying, To horse ! — To horse ! ” 

About ten men were collected. 

D’Artagnan and Porthos leaped, the one on Vulcan, the 
other on Bayard ; Mousqueton bestrode Phœbus. 

Follow me,” cried D’Artagnan. 

Forward ! ” cried Porthos. 

And digging the spurs into the flanks of their noble steeds, 
they set off by the Hue St. Honoré like a furious tempest. 

Well, Monsieur le Baron,” said D’Artagnan, I promised 
you some exercise, and you see that I keep my word.” 

Yes, my captain,” replied Porthos. 


238 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


They looked round: Mousqueton, sweating more than his 
horse, kept the proper distance j behind him galloped the ten 
Guards. 

The astonished citizens looked out of their doors, and the 
frightened dogs barked after them. 

At the corner of the churchyard of St. Jean D’Artagnan 
upset a man ; but this was an affair of too little consequence to 
stop men in such a hurry. The troop therefore galloped on, 
as if the horses were winged. 

Alas ! there are no trivial circumstances in this world ; and 
’e shall see that this circumstance very nearly caused the 
wnfall of the monarchy. 


CHAPTER XXVIL 

THE HIGH ROAD. 

They went at the same pace through all the Eaubourg St. 
Antoine and the road to Vincennes ; they were therefore soon 
out of the city, soon in the forest, soon in sight of the village. 

The horses became more excited at every step, and their 
nostrils grew as red as a heated furnace. D’Artagnan, with 
his spurs in his horse’s sides, preceded Porthos rather more 
than two feet ; Mousqueton followed at two lengths ; the 
Guards came behind, distanced progressively according to the 
quality of their horses. 

Prom the top of an eminence D’Artagnan perceived a group 
of people collected on the other side of the moat, opposite that 
part of the prison which looks toward St. Maur. He at once 
conjectured that this was the point from which the prisoner 
had escaped, and that he might gain some intelligence here. 
In five minutes he had reached the place, where the Guards 
successively came up with him. 

All those who composed this assemblage were earnestly 
engaged : they were looking at the cord, still hanging from the 
loop-hole ; it was broken at about twenty feet from the ground. 
Their eyes were measuring the height, and they were exchang- 
ing sundry conjectures. On the top of the rampart the sen- 
tinels were pacing to and fro with an affrighted air. 

A detachment of troops, commanded by a sergeant, was 


1 

I 

I 


THE HIGH ROAD, 


239 


driving away citizens from the place where the Duke had 
mounted his horse. 

D’Artagnan rode straight up to the sergeant. 

Officer,” said the sergeant, no one must stop here.” 

‘^That order does not apply to me,” replied D’Artagnan. 
“ Have the fugitives been followed ? ” 

Yes, sir ; unfortunately they are well mounted.” 

And how many are they ? ” 

^‘Four efficient men, and a fifth, whom they carried off 
wounded.” 

‘^Four!” said D’Artagnan, looking at Porthos ; do you 
hear, Baron ? — there are only four of them.” 

A joyous smile illumined Porthos’s face. 

“ And what length of start have they got ? ” 

Two hours and a quarter, sir.” 

“ Two hours and a quarter. It is nothing ; we are well 
mounted, are we not, Porthos ? ” 

Porthos heaved a sigh ; he was thinking of what his poor 
horses had before them. 

Very well,” said D’Artagnan. And now in what direc- 
tion are they gone ? ” 

I am forbidden to tell, sir.” 

D’Artagnan drew a paper from his pocket. 

Order from the King,” said he. 

Then speak to the Governor.” 

And where is the Governor ? ” 

In the country.” 

Eage showed itself in D’Artagnan’s face ; he scowled ; the 
red colour spread to his temples. 

Wretch ! ” said he to the sergeant, I believe that you are 
mocking me. Look ! ” 

He unfolded the paper, held it out to the sergeant with one 
hand and with the other he took from his holster a pistol, 
which he cocked. 

An order from the King, I tell you ! Kead it and answer 
it or I blow out your brains ! What road did they take ? ” 

The sergeant saw that D’Artagnan was in earnest. 

“ The Vendomois road,” he replied. 

“ And by what gate did they go out ? ” 

By the gate of St. Maur.” 

If you have deceived me, wretch,” cried D’Artagnan, you 
shall be hanged to-morrow.” 


240 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


And if yon overtake them you will not return to get me 
hanged/’ muttered the sergeant. 

D’Artagnan shrugged his shoulders, made a sign to his escort, 
and spurred forward. 

This way, this way, gentlemen,” said he, going toward the 
Park gate that had been indicated. 

But now that the Duke had escaped the porter had judged 
it advisable to double-lock the gate most carefully. It was 
therefore necessary to compel him to open it in the same man- 
ner as the sergeant had been compelled ; and thus ten minutes 
more were lost. 

This last obstacle being surmounted the troop resumed its 
course with the same rapidjty. But not all the horses dashed 
on with the same ardour. Some of them could not long keep 
up such a desperate pace. Three gave in at the end of an 
hour ; one fell down. 

D’Artagnan, who never turned his head, did not even 
perceive it. Porthos told him of it in his usual quiet 
way. 

Let only us two reach them,” said D’Artagnan ; it is all 
that is necessary since there are only four of them.” 

“ That is true,” answered Porthos. 

And he set his spurs into his horse. 

At the end of two hours the horses had gone twelve leagues 
without stopping. Their legs began to tremble, and the foam 
flowing from their mouths sprinkled the doublets of the cava- 
‘liers, while the sweat saturated their breeches. 

Let us rest a moment to breathe these unhappy animals,” 
cried Porthos. 

Kill them, on the contrary, — kill them,” replied D’Arta- 
gnan ; only let us reach them. I see fresh tracks ; it is not a 
quarter of an hour since they passed here.” 

In fact, the road was cut up by horses’ feet, and the tracks 
could be seen by the last gleams of daylight. 

Again they set off ; but at the end of two leagues, Mousque- 
ton’s horse fell. 

Ah ! ” said Porthos, there is Phoebus done for.” 

The Cardinal will pay you a thousand pistoles for him.” 

Oh,” said Porthos, I am above that.” 

“ Off again, then,” cried D’Artagnan, ‘‘ and at a gallop ! ” 

Yes, if we can.” 

In fact, D’Artagnan’s horse refused to stir another step ; he 


THE HIGH ROAD, 


241 


had no longer any breath, and a last prick of the spur, instead 
of making him go on, only made him fall. 

Ah, the devil ! ’’ cried Porthos, there is Vulcan done up 
too.’’ 

Mortdieu ! ” cried D’Artagnan, j^earing his hair, ‘‘ we must 
stop, then ! Give me your horse, Porthos. Well ! what the 
devil are you about now ? ” 

“ Ah, pardieu ! ” answered Porthos, “ I am falling, or rather 
Bayard is.” 

D’Artagnan wished to raise him, whilst Porthos freed him- 
self from his stirrups as well as he could ; but the blood was 
flowing from his nostrils. 

There goes the third,” cried he ; well, now, all is up with 
us ! ” 

At this moment the neighing of a horse was heard. 

“ Hark ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

“ What is that ?” 

I hear a horse !” 

“ It is one of our comrades who is coming up with us.” 

No,” said D’Artagnan, “ it is in front.” 

Then it must be something else,” said Porthos. 

And he listened in turn, turning his ear in the direction which 
D’Artagnan had indicated. 

Sir,” said Mousqueton, — who, after having left his horse on 
the high road, had just regained his master on foot, — ‘‘ sir, 
Phœbus could not struggle on any longer, and ” — 

“ Silence ! ” cried Porthos. 

In fact, at this very moment a second neigh was heard, 
borne on the evening breeze. 

It is about flve hundred paces in front of us, ” said 
D’Artagnan. 

Sir,” said Mousqueton, at about flve hundred paces in 
front of us there is a small hunting-lodge.” 

Mousqueton — your pistols ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

I have them in my hand,” replied Mousqueton. 

Porthos, take yours from your holsters.” 

I have them.” 

Very good,” said D’Artagnan, taking his own. ^^Now, 
Porthos, do you understand ? ” 

^^Not very well.” 

We are on the King’s service.” 

<Wery well ! ” 


242 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


For the King’s service we require these horses.” 

“ That is so,” said Porthos. 

Therefore, not one word, but to work.” 

All three advanced through the darkness as silent as ghosts. 
At a turn of the road they, saw a light shining in the midst of 
the trees. 

There is the house,” said D’Artagnan, in a low voice. 

Let me take the command, Porthos, and do as I do.” 

They glided from tree to tree and came within twenty paces 
of the house without being discovered. From that spot they 
could see, by means of a lantern suspended from a shed, four 
handsome-looking horses. A servant was cleaning them, and 
close by were the saddles and bridles. 

D’Artagnan went up briskly, making a sign to his com- 
panions to keep some paces in the rear. 

I' will buy these horses of you,” said he to the servant. 

The man turned, mightily astonished, but made no reply. 

‘‘ Did you not hear, you rascal ? ” said D’Artagnan. 

Yes,” he replied. 

And why do you not answer ? ” 

“ Because these horses are not for sale.” 

Then I will take them,” said D’Artagnan. And he put 
his hand on the one nearest to him. His two companions 
made their appearance at the same moment, and did the same. 

‘‘ But, gentlemen,” exclaimed the valet, they have just 
travelled six leagues, and have been unsaddled scarcely half 
an hour.” 

Half an hour’s rest is sufficient,” said D’Artagnan ; they 
will only be in better wind for it.” 

The groom called for help. A kind of steward came out, 
just as D’Artagnan and his companions were putting the 
saddles on the horses’ backs. The steward was going to 
shout. 

My good friend,” said D’Artagnan, if you say one word, 
I blow your brains out.” 

And he showed him the barrel of a pistol, which he instantly 
placed under his arm, that he might continue his operations. 

But, sir,” said the steward, do you know that these 
horses belong to M. de Montbazon ? ” 

“ So much the better,” answered D’Artagnan, they must 
be good animals.” 

Sir,” said the steward, retreating step by step, and en- 


THE HIGH ROAD. 


243 


deavoiiring to regain the door, I warn you that I shall call 
my people/’ 

And I mine ! ” replied D’Artagnan. ‘‘ I am a lieutenant 
of the King’s Musketeers. I have ten Guards following me, 
and — there, do you not hear them galloping ? We shall soon 
see.” 

Nothing was to be heard, but the steward feared that he 
should hear. 

“ Are you ready, Porthos ? ” inquired D’Artagnan. 

, I have finished.” 

And you, Houston ? ” 

And I also.” 

Then to horse and off ! ” 

All three threw themselves on their horses. 

Help ! ” cried the steward. “ Here, you lacqueys, bring 
your carbines.” 

“ Forw'ard ! ” said D’Artagnan ; “ we shall have a volley.” 

And all three set off like the wind. 

“ Help ! help ! ” bawled the steward, while the groom ran 
toward the neighbouring building. 

Take care you don’t kill your own horses ! ” called out 
D’Artagnan, roaring with laughter. 

Fire ! ” cried the steward. 

A flash like a gleam _ of lightning illumined the road, and, 
along with the report, the three horsemen heard the whistling 
of the bullets, which were lost in the air. 

They shoot like lacqueys,” said Porthos. There was 
better shooting in the times of Richelieu. Do you remember 
the Crevecœur road. Mousqueton ? ” 

Ah, sir! my right buttock even now pains me.” 

“ Are you sure that we are on the track, D’Artagnan ? ” 
asked Porthos. 

Pardieu ! did you not hear ? ” 

What ? ” 

That these horses belonged to M. de Montbazon.” 

“ Well ? ” 

Well, M. de Montbazon is Madame de Montbazon’s hus- 
band.” 

And what then ? ” 

Madame de Montbazon is the Due de Beaufort’s mistress.” 

Ah, I comprehend ! ” said Porthos ; she had placed the 
relays,” 


244 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Exactly so.’^ 

And we are pursuing the Duke with the horses that he 
has just left.’’ 

My dear Porthos, you have decidedly a most superior in- 
tellect,” said D’Artagnan, in a manner half in jest, half in 
earnest. 

Pooh ! ” said Porthos, I am what God made me.” 

Thus they went on for about an hour. The horses were 
white with foam, and the blood was dropping from their 
flanks. 

Hi ! what did I see down there ? ” said D’Artagnan. 

You are mighty lucky if you can see anything in such a 
night as this,” replied Porthos. 

Sparks,” said D’Artagnan. 

And I saw themAoo,” said Mousqueton. 

Aha ! can we have overtaken them ? ” cried Porthos. 

Good — a dead hôrse,” said D’Artagnan, pulling his horse 
up from a violent start; it seems they also are at the end of 
their wind.” 

“ I fancy I hear a troop of horsemen,” said Porthos, bend- 
ing down over his horse’s mane. 

Impossible ! ” 

They are numerous.” 

Then it must be something else.” 

Another horse ! ” said Porthos. 

Dead ? ” 

No — dying.” 

Saddled or unsaddled ? 

“ Saddled.” 

Then it must be they.” 

“ Courage ! we have them.” 

But if they are numerous,” said Mousqueton, it is not 
we who have them, but they who have us.” 

Bah ! ” said D’Artagnan, as we pursue them, they will 
think us stronger than we are, so they will take fright and 
disperse.” 

“ That is certain,” said Porthos. 

“ Ah ! — do you see ? ” cried D’Artagnan. 

“ Yes, more sparks ; this time I saw them,” replied Porthos. 

“Forward! forward!” cried D’Artagnan, with his ringing 
voice, “ and in five minutes we shall laugh.” 

And they dashed forward once more. The horses, mad with 


THE ENGAGEMENT. 


245 


pain and emulation, flew over the black road, in the middle of 
which they began to descry a mass denser and darker than the 
rest of the horizon. 


CHAPTEE XXVIII. 

THE ENGAGEMENT. 

They went on in this manner for ten minutes more. 

Suddenly two dark spots separated themselves from the 
mass, came forward, grew larger, and, as they increased in 
size, assumed the form of two horsemen. 

“ Oho ! ” said D' Artagnan, they are coming to meet us.’’ 

So much the worse for those who come,” replied Porthos. 

“ Who goes there ? ” cried a hoarse voice. 

The three advancing horsemen neither stopped nor replied ; 
the only sound heard was that of swords leaving scabbards, 
and the click of pistols cocked by the two dark phantoms. 

Bridle in your mouth ! ” cried D’Artagnan. 

Porthos understood ; and each drew a pistol from his holster 
with his left hand and cocked it. 

‘AYho goes there?” demanded the same voice a second 
time ; not one step farther, or you are dead men ! ” 

Bah ! ” cried Porthos, almost choked with the dust, and 
chewing his bridle as a horse chews his bit ; bah ! you are 
not the first persons we have ever encountered.” 

At these words the two shadows barred their passage, and 
the barrels of two levelled pistols glittered in the starlight. 

^^Back ! ” cried D’Artagnan, or you are dead men.” 

Two pistol-shots answered this threat ; but the two assail- 
ants dashed forward with such rapidity that they were on 
their adversaries in an instant. The report of a third pistol- 
shot was heard, fired by D’Artagnan at close range, and his 
enemy fell. Porthos dashed against his adversary with such 
violence that, although his sword-thrust was parried, the man 
was flung by the shock ten paces from his horse. 

Finish him. Mousqueton ; finish him ! ” said Porthos. 
And he dashed forward and overtook his friend, who had 
already renewed the pursuit. 

Well ? ” said Porthos. 

I broke his head,” said D’Artagnan. And you ? ” 


246 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


I only upset him. . But listen ’’ — 

They heard the report of a carbine ; it was Mousqueton, 
who, in passing, had executed his master’s order. 

“ Come along,” said D’Artagnan, that ’s all right ; we have 
gained the first point in the game.” 

“ Aha ! ” said Porthos, here come some fresh players.” 

In fact, two more horsemen, detached from the principal 
group, now made their appearance, and came forward rapidly, 
again to bar their road. 

This time P’Artagnan did not even wait to be addressed. 

Give way ! ” he cried ; give way ! ” 

What do you want ? ” demanded a voice. 

The Duke ! ” roared out D’Artagnan and Porthos at the 
same moment. 

A burst of laughter was the reply ; but it terminated in a 
groan : D’Artagnan had run the laugher completely through 
the body. 

At the same time there were two nearly simultaneous re- 
ports : it was Porthos and his adversary, who had fired at 
each other. 

D’Artagnan turned, and saw Porthos close to him. 

Bravo, Porthos ! ” said he, I think you have killed him.” 

“ I fancy that I only shot his horse,” answered Porthos. 

What would you have, my dear fellow ? One does not 
hit the bull’s-eye every time, and ought not to complain when 
the shot reaches the target. Hé ! Hé ! Parbleu ! what is the 
matter with my horse ? ” 

Why, he is tumbling down, to be sure,” replied Porthos, 
as he pulled up his own. 

In fact, D’Artagnan’s horse stumbled forward, and fell on his 
knees ; then, after the death-rattle, lay motionless. He had re- 
ceived in his chest the bullet of D’Artagnan’s first opponent. 

D’Artagnan uttered a tremendous oath. 

“ Do you want a horse, sir ? ” inquired Mousqueton. 

Pardieu, that ’s a pretty question ! ” exclaimed D’Arta- 
gnan. 

Here is one, sir,” said Mousqueton. 

How the devil did you come by these two led horses ? ” de- 
manded D’Artagnan, at the same time leaping on one of them. 

Their masters are dead. I thought they might be useful to 
us, so I took them.” 

In the meantime, Porthos had reloaded his pistol. 


THE ENGAGEMENT. 


247 


Look out ! ” said D’ Artagiian ; here are two more.’’ 

Aha ! why, there will be enough to last till to-morrow ! ” 
said Porthos. 

I In reality, two more horsemen were rapidly advancing. 

“ Oh, sir ! ” said Mousqueton, the man you knocked over 
is up again.” 

‘‘ Why did not you treat him as you did the other ? ” 

I My hands were full, sir, holding the horses.” 

A shot was heard, and Mousqueton emitted a cry of pain. 

Ah, sir ! ” he cried out, “ in the other ! — precisely in the 
f other ! This wound will be an exact counterpart of that on 
the Amiens road.” 

Porthos turned like a lion, and rushed upon the dismounted 
horseman, who endeavoured to draw his sword ; but before it 
could get out of its scabbard, Porthos gave him such a terrible 
blow on the head with the hilt of his own that he fell like an 
ox under the butcher’s axe. 

Mousqueton, groaning, gently glided from his horse, his 
wound not allowing him to keep the saddle. 

When he saw the horsemen, D’Artagnan halted, and re- 
loaded his pistol. His new horse had also a carbine at the 
saddlebow. 

Here I am ! ” said Porthos ; ‘‘ shall we wait, or charge 
. them ? ” 

Charge ! ” cried D’Artagnan. 

Charge ! ” responded Porthos. 

They struck their spurs into their horses’ sides. The horse- 
men were not more than twenty paces from them. 

In the King’s name let us pass ! ” cried D’Artagnan. 

The King has nothing to do here ! ” replied a deep-sound- 
ing voice that seemed to issue from a cloud, for the horseman 
was enveloped in a whirlwind of dust. 

Very well, we shall see if the King cannot pass every- 
where ! ” answered D’Artagnan. 

See, then ! ” said the same voice. 

Two pistol-shots resounded almost at the same moment, one 
from D’Artagnan, the other from Porthos’s adversary. D’Arta- 
gnan’s ball carried off his adversary’s hat ; the ball of Porthos’s 
opponent penetrated his horse’s neck, which fell dead with a 
heavy groan. 

For the last time, where are you going ? ” cried the same 
voice. 


248 


TWENTY YEARS ARTER. 


“ To the devil ! ” replied D’Artagnan. 

Good ! — make yourself easy — you will soon get there.” 

D’Artagnan saw a musket barrel levelled at him. He had 
no time to draw another pistol ; he remembered the advice 
which Athos had formerly given him : he made his horse rear. 

The ball struck the animal full in the belly. D’Artagnan 
felt that the animal was failing him, and, with his wonderful 
agility, threw himself off on one side. 

Aha ! ” said the same ringing and bantering voice, it is 
verily a butchery of horses, and not a combat between meit, in 
which we are engaged. To the sword, sir, to the sword ! ” 

And he leaped from his horse. 

To the sword ? So be it ! ” replied D’Artagnan ; that is 
just what I like.” 

In two bounds D’Artagnan was engaged with his adversary, 
whose sword he felt against his own. D’Artagnan, with his 
accustomed skill, had brought his sword en tierce, his favourite 
guard. 

In the meantime, Porthos, kneeling behind his horse, which 
was struggling in the last convulsions, held a pistol in each 
hand. 

, Now the combat was on between D’Artagnan and his adver- 
sary. D’Artagnan had attacked fiercely, in his usual way ; 
but this time he met a skill and a wrist play that made him 
wonder. Twice being received e7h ciuarte, he retreated one 
step ; but his adversary did not move. So D’Artagnan returned, 
and again engaged his sword en tierce. 

Two or three thrusts were exchanged without any result; 
the sparks flew in clusters from their swords. 

At last D’Artagnan thought that the time was come to make 
use of his favourite feint. He performed it most skilfully, 
executed it with the rapidity of lightning, and made the lunge 
with a force that he considered irresistible. The thrust was 
parried. 

Mordious ” he cried out in his Gascon accent. 

At this exclamation his adversary jumped backward, and 
bending his uncovered head, endeavoured to discover D’Arta- 
gnan’s countenance amid the darkness. 

As for D’Artagnan,. fearing a stratagem, he kept himself on 
his guard. 

Take care ! ” said Porthos to his adversary, I have yet 
got two loaded pistols.” 


THE ENGAGEMENT 


249 


The more reason that you should fire first,’’ replied the other. 

Porthos fired. A gleam illumined the field of battle. 

At this light the two combatants each uttered a cry. 

Athos ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan. 

D’Artagnan ! ” cried Athos. 

Athos raised his sword. D’Artagnan lowered his. 

Aramis,” cried out Athos, do not fire ! ” 

Ah ! is it you, Aramis ? ” said Porthos, throwing away his 
other pistol. 

Aramis replaced his in his holster and sheathed his sword. 

My son ! ” said Athos, holding out his hand to D’Artagnan. 
It was the name he gave him formerly, in his moments of 
affection. 

Athos,” said D’Artagnan, wringing his hands ; you are 
defending him, then ? And I, who had sworn to bring him 
back, dead or alive — Ah ! I am dishonoured ! ” 

Kill me,” said Athos, baring his breast, “ if your honour 
requires my death.” 

Oh ! misery, misery ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan ; there was 
only one man in the world who could stop me, and Fate decrees 
that that man should bar my passage. Ah ! what shall I say 
to the Cardinal ? ” 

^•You will tell him, sir,” said a. voice that dominated the 
field of combat, that he sent against me the only two men 
who could thus have vanquished four, and who could contend 
on terms of equality with the Comte de la Père and the Cheva- 
lier d’Herblay, and who did not surrender till they were sur- 
rounded by fifty men.” 

The Prince ! ” exclaimed Athos and Aramis, at the same 
moment retiring, so as to discover the Due de Beaufort ; while 
D’Artagnan and Porthos retreated a. step. 

Look around you, gentlemen, if you do not believe me.” 

Fifty cavaliers ! ” muttered D’Artagnan and Porthos. 

They looked around them, and found that they were com- 
pletely surrounded by horsemen. 

By the noise of your combat, gentlemen,” said the Duke, 
I thought that there were twenty men of you, and I returned 
with all my attendants, weary of flight, and wishing, in my 
turn, to draw my sword, — when I found that there were but 
two of you.” 

Yes, monseigneur,” said Athos, ^‘but you yourself said that 
they were two who were worth twenty.” 


250 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ Come, gentlemen, your swords ! ’’ said the Duke. ! 

Our swords ? ’’ cried D’Artagnan, raising his head and 1 
recovering himself, — <‘our swords? Never!” ' 

“ Never ! ” reechoed Porthos. il 

Some of the men made a movement. | 

‘‘ One moment, monseigneur,” said Athos ; only two words.” [ 

And he went up to the Prince, to whom, as he bent down ! 
toward him, he spoke a few words in a low voice. : 

As you please. Count,” said the Prince ; “ I am under too ! 
great obligations to you to refuse your first request. Retire, 
gentlemen,” said he to his escort. Messieurs D’Artagnan and 
Du Vallon, you are free ! ” 

The order was immediately executed, and D’Artagnan and 
Porthos found themselves composing the centre of an immense 
circle. 

^<Now, D’Herblay,” said Athos, dismount and come here.” 

Aramis dismounted and went up to Porthos, while Athos 
approached D’Artagnan. Thus the four were again united. 

Friends,” said Athos, are you sorry that you have not 
shed our blood ?” 

“No,” replied D’Artagnan. “What I regret is to see us 
opposed to one another — we who have always been so closely 
united. I regret that we should meet in opposite camps. Ah ! 
nothing will succeed with us again.” 

“ Oh, no ! ” ejaculated Porthos, “ mon Dieu ! all is over with 
us ! ” 

Well, then, join us,” said Aramis. 

“ Silence, D’Herblay ! ” said Athos. “ Propositions of this 
kind are not to be made to such gentlemen as these. If they 
have taken service with Mazarin, it is from conscientious con- 
viction, just as we have joined the Prince.” 

“ In the meantime we are enemies,” said Porthos. “ Sang- 
bleu ! who would ever have believed that ? ” 

D’Artagnan said nothing, but sighed. 

Athos looked at them, and took their hands. 

“ Gentlemen,” said he, “ this is a grave affair, and my 
heart suffers as much as if you had pierced it through. Yes, 
we are separated — this is the great, this is the sad reality. 
But we have not yet declared war. Perhaps we have some con- 
ditions to make. A last conversation is indispensable.” 

“ I demand it,” said Aramis. 

“ I agree to it,” said D’Artagnan proudly. 


THE ENGAGEMENT. 


251 


Porthos bowed bis bead in token of assent. 

^‘Let us, then, appoint a place of meeting,” continued 
Atbos, accessible to all ; and in a final interview, let us reg- 
ulate definitively our mutual position, and tbe conduct we are 
to pursue toward one another.” 

Very good,” said the other three. 

“ You agree with me, then ? ” demanded Athos. 

“ Entirely.” 

“ Well, then, the place ? ” 

The Place Koyale — will that suit you ? ” said D’Artagnan. 

In Paris ? ” 

Yes.” 

Athos and Aramis looked at each other. Aramis gave a 
nod of assent. 

“ Let it be the Place Royale, then,” said Athos. 

And when ? ” 

To-morrow evening, if you like.” 

Shall you be back ?” 

Yes.” 

At what hour ? ” 

At ten o’clock at night. Does that suit you ? ” 

Excellently well.” 

From that interview,” said Athos, either war or peace 
will ensue ; but, at any rate, my friends, our honour will be 
safe.” 

Alas ! ” murmured D’Artagnan, our honour, as soldiers, 
is gone ! ” 

D’Artagnan,” said Athos, with great seriousness, I pro- 
test that you give me excruciating pain by thinking so ; and 
when I also remember that we have crossed swords in hostile 
conflict. Yes,” continued he, shaking his head with profound 
grief, — yes, you have said it : misfortune has invaded us. 
Come, Aramis.” 

And we, Porthos,” said D’Artagnan, let us return and 
carry our shame to the Cardinal.” 

And tell him, more especially,” cried a voice, that I am 
not too old to be a man of action.” 

D’Artagnan recognized Rochefort’s voice. 

‘‘ Can I do anything for you, gentlemen ? ” inquired the 
Prince. 

yo. : testimony to our having done all we could, 
monseigneui-. ” 


252 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Make yourselves easy on that score ; it shall be done. 
Adieu, gentlemen, I hope that we shall soon meet near Paris, 
and perhaps in Paris, and then you may take your revenge.’’ i 

At these words the Duke waved his hand, put his horse to | 
a gallop, and disappeared, followed by his escort, which was I 
soon lost to^ sight in the darkness, as the noise was in the | 
distance. 

D’Artagnan and Porthos found themselves alone on the 
high road, with a man who was holding two horses by their 
bridles. They thought that it was Mousqueton, and went up 
to him. 

What do I see ? ” said D’Artagnan ; is it you, Gri- 
maud ? ” 

“ Grimaud ! ” said Porthos. 

Grimaud made a sign that the two friends were not mis- 
taken. 

And whose horses are these ? ” asked D’Artagnan. 

Who has given them to us ? ” inquired Porthos. 

“The Comte de la Père.” 

“ Athos, Athos,” murmured D’Artagnan, “ you think of 
everything ; you are indeed a gentleman.” 

“ All right ! ” said Porthos. “ I was afraid that we should 
have had to trudge it on foot.” 

And he got into the saddle ; D’Artagnan was already 
mounted. 

“ And where are you going, Grimaud ? ” inquired D’Arta- 
gnan ; “ are you leaving your master ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” answered Grimaud ; “ I am going to join the 
Viscomte de Bragelonne, with the army in Flanders.” 

They then proceeded some paces in silence, on the high 
road toward Paris, when, suddenly, lamentations were heard, 
apparently issuing from a ditch. 

“ What is that ? ” said. D’Artagnan. 

“ That ? ” said Porthos ; “ why, it is Mousqueton.” 

“ Oh, yes, sir, it is me,” answered a plaintive voice, while a 
kind of shadow arose on the opposite side of the road. 

Porthos hastened to his steward, to whom he was sincerely 
attached. 

“ Are you dangerously wounded, my dear Mouston ? ” said 
he. 

“ Mouston ! ” exclaimed Grimaud, opening his eyes with 
astonishment. 


THE ENGAGEMENT. 


253 


‘‘ No, sir, I do not think I am ; but I am wounded in a most 
inconvenient manner.” 

Then you cannot mount your horse ? ” 

Oh, sir, what a proposition to make me ! ” • 

Can you walk ? ” 

I will try, as far as the next house.” 

What can we do ? ” said D’ Artagnan, for we must return 
to Paris.” 

‘‘ I will take charge of Mousqueton,” said Grimaud. 

Thank you, my good Grimaud,” said Porthos. 

Grimaud dismounted and gave his arm to his old friend, 
who received it with tears in his eyes ; but Grimaud was 
unable positively to determine whether they flowed from 
delight at seeing him or from the pain of his wound. 

D’ Artagnan and Porthos silently pursued their journey to 
Paris. 

Three hours after, they were passed by a courier covered 
with dust. It was a man sent by the Duke, as the bearer of a 
letter to the Cardinal, in which, according to his promise, he 
bore testimony to the actions performed by D’Artagnan and 
Porthos. 

Mazarin had passed a very bad night, when he received this 
letter, in which the Prince himself proclaimed his liberty and 
declared deadly war against him. 

The Cardinal read it two or three times ; then folding 
and putting it into his pocket : “ What gives me some con- 
solation,” said he, ‘‘Gs that in the pursuit he has at least 
annihilated Broussel. Positively the Gascon is a most valu- 
able man ; he does me good service, even when he makes awk- 
ward blunders.” 

The Cardinal alluded to the man whom D’Artagnan had 
knocked over at the corner of the cemetery of St. Jean, in 
Paris, and who was no other than the Councillor Broussel. 


254 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

FOUR OLD FRIENDS PREPARE FOR A MEETING. 

Well/’ said Porthos, who was seated in the court-yard of 
the Hôtel de la Chevrette, to D’Artagnan, who had just 
returned from the Palais Cardinal with a lengthened and dis- 
satisfied face, — well, did he receive you so ill, my good 
D’Artagnan ?” 

“ Faith ! yes. Positively that man is an ugly beast ! 
What are you eating, Porchos ? ” 

Why, 3^ou see, I am soaking biscuit in a glass of Spanish 
wine. You had better do the same.” 

You are quite right. Here, Gimblou, a glass ! ” 

The waiter apostrophized by this euphonious name brought 
the glass, and D’Artagnan sat down by his friend. 

Well, how did it go ? ” 

Why, you understand, there was only one way of telling 
the thing. I entered, and he looked askance at me. I 
shrugged my shoulders and said to him : 

“ ‘ Well, monsignor, we were not the stronger party.’ 

^ Yes, I know that,’ said he, ^ but give me the details.’ 

‘‘ You understand, Porthos, that I could not give him the 
details without mentioning our friends ; and to name them 
was to destroy them.” 

Yes, pardieu ! ” 

^ Monsignor,’ said I, ^ there were fifty of them, and we 
were but two.’ 

Yes,’ he replied, ‘but that did not prevent some pistol- 
shots from being exchanged, as I have heard.’ 

“ ‘ The fact is,’ said I, ‘ there were a few charges of powder 
burnt on both sides.’ 

“ ‘ And the swords saw the light of day, did they not ? ’ he 
added. 

“ ‘ That is to say, the light of night, mon signor,’ I replied. 

“ ‘ Ah, so. I thought you were a Gascon, my dear,’ continued 
the Cardinal. 

“ ‘ I am Gascon only when I succeed, monsignor,’ said I. 

“ The answer pleased him, for he began to laugh. 

“ ‘ This will teach me,’ said he, ‘ to give better horses to my 
Guards, for if they had been able to follow you, and if they 


OLD FRIENDS PREPARE FOR A MEETING. 255 


each had done as much as you and your friend, you -would 
have kept your word, and would have brought him back, dead 
or alive.’ ” 

“ Well, now, that does not seem bad after all,” said Porthos. 

“ Oh, moil Dieu ! no, my dear ; but it is the manner in which 
it was said. It is incredible,” broke off D’Artagnan, what a 
quantity of wine these biscuits hold ; they are regular sponges. 
Gimblou, another bottle ! ” 

The bottle was brought with a promptitude that proved the 
consideration in which D’Artagnan vms held by the establish- 
ment. He went on to say : 

“ So I was just going away when he recalled me. 

“ ‘ You had three horses either killed or foundered ? ’ he 
asked. 

^ Yes, monsignor.’ 

^ How much were they worth ? ’ ” 

But,” said Porthos, that seems a pretty good motion, 
though.” 

‘ A thousand pistoles,’ I replied.” 

A thousand pistoles ? ” said Porthos. “ Oh, ho ! that is a 
large sum ; and if h^ knew anything of horses, he must have 
haggled a little.” 

“ He had a good mind to do so, the skinflint ; for he gave a 
tremendous start and looked at me. I looked at him. Then 
he understood ; and, putting his hand into a desk, he drew 
forth some bills on the Lyons Bank.” 

For a thousand pistoles ? ” 

Yes, for a thousand pistoles exactly, the stingy fellow, — 
not one more.” 

And have you got them ? ” 

Here they are.” 

Faith ! now, I think that he has acted with great propriety,” 
said Porthos. 

Propriety ! With men who have not only just risked 
their lives, but who, moreover, have done him a great ser- 
vice ! ” 

A great service ? And what is it ? ” demanded Porthos. 

a Why, it seems that I almost annihilated a parliamentary 
councillor for him.” 

What, that little dark man whom you upset at the corner 
of the cemetery of St. Jean ? ” 

Exactly so, my dear. Well, he annoyed him; and, unfor- 


256 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


timately, I did not squeeze him quite flat ; it seems that he is 
likely to recover, and to annoy him again. I 

“ There, now,” said Porthos ; and I turned my horse to | 
one side, else he would have been right on him ! But- 1 will ■ 
do it another time.” 

‘‘ He ought to have paid me for the councillor, the mean i 
fellow ! ” 

But if he was not quite crushed ? ” said Porthos. 

Ah ! Eichelieu would have said — ^ five hundred crowns 
for the councillor ! ’ But let us not talk any more about it. 
How much did those horses cost you, Porthos ? ” 

* Ah, my friend, if poor Mousqueton were here he would 
tell you to a livre, a sou, and a denier ! ” 

Never mind ; tell me within ten crowns.” ; 

Why, Vulcan and Bayard stood me in about two hundred I 
pistoles each ; and putting Phoebus at a hundred and fifty, I 
believe that we shall come pretty near the mark.” 

Then there remain four hundred and fifty pistoles,” said 
D’Artagnan, very well satisfied. 

‘‘ Yes,” said Porthos, but there are the accoutrements.” 

That ’s true, pardieu ! And what do you put the accoutre- 
ments at ? ” 

Why, say a hundred pistoles for the three.” 

Let it be a hundred pistoles,” said H’Artagnan ; there 
then remain three hundred and fifty pistoles.” 

Porthos nodded an assent. 

Let us give the odd fifty to our hostess for all our ex- 
penses here,” said H’Artagnan, “and divide the other three 
hundred.” 

“ Let us divide them,” said Porthos. 

“ A paltry affair ! ” muttered D’Artagnan, putting up the 
notes. 

“ Heu ! ” said Porthos, “ it is always the case. But please 
tell me ” — 

“What ? ” 

“ Did he not mention me in any way ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan, who was afraid of dis- 
couraging his friend by saying that the Cardinal had not 
breathed a syllable about him ; “ he said ” — 

He said,” repeated Porthos. 

“ Stay — I am trying to recall his very words. He said, ^ Tell 
your friend that he may sleep on both ears.’ ” 


OLD FRIENDS PREPARE FOR A MEETING. 257 


Good ! ” said Porthos ; ‘‘ that means, plain enough, that he 
still intends to make me a baron/’ 

At this moment the neighbouring church clock struck nine. 
D’Artagnan started. 

“ Ah ! it is true,” said Porthos, it is striking nine ; and at ten, 
you remember, we have our appointment at the Place Royale.” 

Hold your tongue, Porthos ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan, with 
a gesture of impatience ; do not remind me of that ; it has 
made me sulky ever since yesterday. I will not go.” 

“ And why not ? ” demanded Porthos. 

I Because it is most painful to me to meet again the two 
I men who caused our enterprise to fail.” 

' And yet,” replied Porthos, “ neither one nor the other had 
the advantage. I had still one loaded pistol ; and you were 
facing each other, sword in hand.” 

“ Yes,” said D’Artagnan, but if this appointment conceals 
soinething ” — 

“ Oh ! ” said Porthos, you cannot think so, D’Artagnan.” 

It was true, D’Artagnan did not think Athos capable of em- 
ploying stratagem, but he was trying to invent some pretext 
for not going to the rendezvous. 

^^We must go,” said the proud Seigneur de Bracieux ; 
otherwise they will think that we were afraid. Ah ! my 
dear friend, we faced fifty enemies on the high road — we 
may therefore well face two friends on the Place Royale.” 

Yes, yes,” said D’Artagnan, I know that ; but they took 
the Prince’s side without giving us any intimation of it. Athos 
and Araniis have played a game with me which alarms me. 
Yesterday we discovered the truth ; and what can be the use 
of going to-day to learn something else ? ” 

Then you really distrust them ? ” said Porthos. 

I certainly distrust Aramis since he has become an abbé. 
You cannot imagine, my dear, what he has become. He sees 
us standing in the way by which he might become a bishop, 
and probably would not be sorry to suppress us.” 

Ah ! as regards Aramis, it is another thing,” said Porthos, 
and I should not be surprised at it.” 

M. de Beaufort might perhaps endeavour to have us 
arrested.” 

Bah ! Why, he had us in his power and let us go. Be- 
sides, let us be on our guard ; let us arm ourselves and take 
Planchet, with his carbine,” 


258 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Planchet is a Frondeur/’ said D’Artagnan. 

The devil take these civil wars ! ” said Porthos ; one can 
no longer depend either on his friends or on his lacqueys. Ah, 
if poor Mousqueton were here ! There is a fellow who will 
never forsake me.” 

‘‘ Yes, while you are rich. It is not the civil war, my dear, 
that disunites us ; it is that we are no longer only twenty years 
old — it is that the pure and loyal zeal of youth has passed 
away, and has been followed by the suggestions of interest, the 
breath of ambition, and the counsels of selfishness. Yes, you 
are right, Porthos ; let us go, but let us go well armed. If we 
were not to go, they would say that we were afraid.” 

Holà, Planchet ! ” cried H’Artagnan. 

Planchet made his appearance. 

Get the horses saddled, and take your carbine.” 

But first, sir, tell me against whom we are going ? ” 

We are not going against any one,” said D’Artagnan ; it is 
a simple measure of precaution, in case we should be attacked.” 

Do you know, sir, that an attempt has been made on the 
life of the good Councillor Broussel, the father of the people ? ” 

Ah, really ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

Yes, but he has been well avenged ; for he was carried 
home in the arms of the people ; since yesterday his house 
has never been empty. He has been visited by the coadjutor, 
the Due de Longueville, and the Prince de Conti. Madame de 
Chevreuse and Madame de Vendôme have left their names at 
his house ; and now, when he likes ” — 

Well ? When he likes ” — 

Planchet began to sing : 

“ ^ Un vent de fronde 
S'est levé ce matin; 

Je crois qu'il gronde 
Contre le Mazarin. 

Un vent de fronde 
S'est levé ce matin.' " * 

I do not wonder now,” said D’Artagnan in a low voice to 
Porthos, ‘‘ that Mazarin would have been more pleased had I 
completely crushed that councillor.” 

A breeze of the Fronde 
Arose this morning; 

I believe that it groaned 
Against Mazarin. 

A breeze of the Fronde 
Arose this morning.” 


OLD FRIENDS PREPARE FOR A MEETING. 269 

You understand, therefore, sir,’’ said Planchet, that if it 
were for such an expedition as that against M. Broussel you 
wished mè to take my carbine ” — 

“ No, no ; be quite easy about that. But who told you all 
these details ? ” 

‘‘ Who ? I have them from good authority, sir ; I got them 
from Briquet.” 

From Friquet ? ” said D’Artagnan ; “ I know that name.” 

He is the son of M. de Broussel’s servant-maid — a rogue 
who, I answer for it, would not, in any disturbance, give his 
share to the dogs.” 

Is he not choir boy at Notre Dame ? ” inquired D’Artagnan. 

“ Yes, that ’s the one — a protégé of Bazin’s.” 

Ah, I know,” said D’Artagnan ; “ and also the waiter at a 
wine-shop in the Bue de Calandre ? ” 

“ Exactly so.” 

What can you have to do with this monkey ? ” said 
Porthos. 

Oh,” said D’Artagnan, he gave me some good informa- 
tion, and may possibly, on occasion, give me more.” 

To you, who were very near annihilating his master ? ” 

And who should tell him that ? ” 

Ah, that is true ! ” 

At this very time, Athos and Aramis were entering Paris by 
the Faubourg St. Antoine. They had taken refreshment on 
their route, and were hurrying forward that they might not be 
too late for their appointment. Bazin alone accompanied them. 
Grimaud, it may be remembered, had remained to take care of 
Mousqueton, and was to go directly to the young Viscomte de 
Bragelonne, who was on his way to join the army in Flanders. 

Now,” said Athos, “ we must enter some hotel to put on a 
peaceful garb, to lay aside our pistols and swords, and to dis- 
arm our lacquey.” 

Oh, by no means, my dear Count ! and in this you will not 
only allow me to be of a different opinion, but also to endeav- 
our to bring you over to mine.” 

Ajid why so ?” 

Because we are going to a hostile meeting.” 

What do you mean, Aramis ? ” 

That the Place Royale is the sequel of the Vendomois 
road, and nothing else.” 


260 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


What, our friends ” — 

Are become our most dangerous enemies. Athos, believe 
me we must be on our guard ; and especially you must. 

“ Oh, my dear D’Herblay ! 

“ Who can say that D’Artagnan has not thrown the blame 
of his defeat on us, and that he has not given information to 
the Cardinal ? Who can say that the Cardinal will not take 
advantage of this appointment to arrest us ? ’’ 

What, Aramis, do you think that D’Artagnan and Porthos 
would sanction such an infamous proceeding ? ” 

“ Between friends, my dear Athos, you are perfectly right — 
it would be disgraceful ; but between enemies it is only a 
stratagem.” 

Athos crossed his arms, and his handsome head fell on his 
chest. 

What would you have, Athos ? ” said Aramis; ^^men are 
thus constituted, and are not forever twenty years old. We 
have, as you know, cruelly wounded that self-love which 
blindly actuates D’Artagnan in everything he does. He has 
been foiled. Did you not hear his despair on the road ? As 
for Porthos, perhaps his barony depended on the success of 
that expedition. Well, he met us on the road, and will not 
be a baron this time. Who can say but that this famous 
barony has something to do with our interview of this even- 
ing ? Let us take our precautions, Athos.” 

But if they were to come unarmed, what a disgrace for 
us, Aramis ! ” 

Oh, be quite easy, my dear. I answer for it that that will 
not be the case. Besides, we have an excuse. We are just 
come from a journey, and we are rebels.” 

An excuse for us — we must devise an excuse to give 
D’Artagnan and Porthos ! Oh, Aramis, Aramis ! ” continued 
Athos, with a melancholy shake of the head, by my soul, you 
make me the most wretched of men ! You disenchant a heart 
not yet dead to friendship ! Hear me, Aramis ; I protest I 
would prefer that you tore open my breast. Do you go as 
you like, Aramis. I will go unarmed.” 

^‘No; because I will not allow you to go so. It is not 
merely one man — it is no longer Athos — it is not even the 
Comte de la Père that you will betray by such a weakness, 
but it is the entire party to which you belong, and which 
counts on you.” 


OLD FRIENDS PREPARE FOR A MEETING. 261 


Well, let it be as you will,’’ said Athos, in a mournful 
tone. 

And they pursued their route. 

Scarcely had they reached the gates of the deserted place, 
by the Kue du Pas-de-la-Mule, before they perceived three 
horsemen under the arcade at the entrance of the Eue Sainte 
Catherine. 

It was D’Artagnan and Porthos, who were proceeding 
enveloped in their cloaks, which their swords lifted. Behind 
them came Planchet, with his musket on his thigh. 

Athos and Aramis dismounted on seeing D’Artagnan and 
Porthos, who did the same. D’Artagnan remarked that the 
three horses, instead of being held by Bazin, were fastened 
to the rings of the arcades. He ordered Planchet to do as 
Bazin did. 

Then they advanced to meet each other, followed by their 
valets, and saluted politely. 

“ Where shall we talk, gentlemen ? ” said Athos, who per- 
ceived that many persons were stopping and waiting to see if 
it was not to be one of those famous duels still vivid in the 
memory of the Parisians, and more especially of those who 
inhabited the Place Eoyale. 

<‘The gate is fastened,” said Aramis; ^^but if these gentle- 
men like the fresh air, under the trees, and undisturbed soli- 
tude, I will get the key from the Hôtel de Eohan, and we 
shall be all right.” 

D’Artagnan gazed into the darkness of the place, and Por- 
thos thrust his head through two of the bars, to fathom 
its shades. 

If you prefer another place,” said Athos, with his noble 
and persuasive voice, only choose for yourselves.” 

This will be the best spot possible, I believe,” said D’Ar- 
tagnan, if M. d’Herblay can procure the key.” 

Aramis immediately went off, first warning Athos not to 
remain within reach of D’Artagnan and Porthos. But the 
man to whom this warning was given only smiled disdain- 
fully, and took a step toward his old friends, both of whom 
remained where they were. 

Aramis went to the Hôtel de Eohan and knocked, and soon 
reappeared with a man who was saying : 

And do you swear it to me, sir ? ” 

There,” said Aramis, giving him a louis. 


262 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ Then you will not swear, sir ? ’’ said the porter, shaking 
his head. 

Why, can a person take his oath about anything ? ” re- 
plied Aramis. only declare to you that, at this present 
moment, these gentlemen are friends of ours.’’ 

Yes, certainly,” coldly replied Athos, D’Artagnan, and 
Porthos. 

D’Artagnan had heard this dialogue and understood it. 

Do you see ? ” said he to Porthos. 

What is it that I am to see ? ” 

‘‘ That he would not swear.” 

Swear — about what ? ” 

That man wished Aramis to swear that we were not going 
on the Place Koyale to fight.” 

And Aramis would not swear ?” « 

No.” 

Attention, then ! ” 

Athos did not take his eyes from them as thus they talked. 
Aramis opened the gate and drew to one side to let D’Arta- 
gnan and Porthos enter. As he entered, D’Artagnan caught 
the handle of his sword in the bars of the gate, and was 
obliged to push aside his cloak. In doing this he exposed the 
Shining butt of his pistols, which a stray moonbeam illumined. 

Do you see ? ” said Aramis, touching Athos’s shoulder 
with one hand, and with the other pointing to the arsenal 
that D’Artagnan wore at his girdle. 

Alas ! yes,” replied Athos, with a profound sigh. 

And he followed the other two in. 

Aramis entered the last, and locked the gate behind him. 
The two lacqueys remained outside ; but, as if they also had 
distrusted each other, they kept at a distance. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

THE PLACE ROYALE. 

They walked in silence to the very centre of the Place; 
but as, at this moment, the moon was just coming out from 
behind a cloud, they reflected that, in this exposed situation, 
they might be easily seen ; they went under the linden trees, 
where the shade was deeper. 


THE PLACE ROYALE. 


263 


There were benches here and there. The four gentlemen 
stopped before one of them, and, at a sign from Athos, D’Arta- 
gnan and Porthos sat down, while Athos and Aramis remained 
standing before them. 

After the lapse of some moments, during which each of 
them felt tlie em))arrassment of commencing an explanation : 

“ Gentlemen,” said Athos, ‘‘ a proof of the strength of our 
old friendship is given by our presence at this interview. 
Not one of us has failed; no one, therefore, feels any self- 
reproa'ihes.” 

Listen, Count,” said D’Artagnan. Instead of paying one 
another compliments, which perhaps none of us deserve, let 
us exjdain ourselves, like frank and honourable men.” 

T ask nothing more,” replied Athos. I am frank ; speak 
with all i rankness. Have you anything for which to reproach 
ni(' or the Abbé d’Herblay ? ” 

Yes,” said H’Artagnan. When I had the honour of see- 
ing yon at the Chateau de Bragelonne, I was the bearer of 
pifvpositions which you thoroughly understood. Instead of 
answering me as a friend, you played with me as if I were a 
c inld ; and this friendship of which you boast was not shattered 
by the shock of our swords yesterday, but by your dissimula- 
tion at your own chateau.” 

•■D’Artagnan ! ” said Athos, in a voice of gentle reproach. 

“ You asked for frankness,” replied D’Artagnan ; you have 
it! You ask my opinion; I tell it you. And now I have it 
equally at your service, M. I’Abbe d’Herblay. I acted the 
same toward you, and you deceived me in the same manner.” 

“ Really, sir, you are very strange,” said Aramis; ‘Do^came 
to make me certain propositions ; but did you make them ? 
>'o; you sounded me — that was all. Well, what did I say 
to you ? That Mazarin was a mean rascal, and that I would 
jiot serve him — that is all ! Did I tell you that I would not 
serve another ? On the contrary, I gave you to understand, I 
think, that I supported the Princes. We even, if I am not 
mistaken, joked most agreeably on the probable chance of 
your receiving an order from the Cardinal to arrest me. Were 
you not a party man ? Without doubt you were. Well, why 
should not we be party men also ? You had your secret, as we 
had ours. We did not exchange them; so much the better 
it proves that we know how to keep our secrets.” 

“ I make you no reproaches, sir,” said D’Artagnan ; it is 


264 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


only because the Comte de la Fère has spoken of friendship 
that I examine your conduct.’’ 

“ And what do you think of it ? ” demanded Aramis 
haughtily. 

The blood instantly mounted to D’Artagnan’s temples. 
Standing up, he replied : 

“ I think it worthy of a disciple of the Jesuits.” 

On seeing D’Artagnan stand up Porthos had also stood up. 
So the four men were now in a threatening attitude, facing 
each other. 

At D’Artagnan’s answer, Aramis made a motion as if to put 
his hand to his sword. 

Athos stopped him. 

‘‘D’Artagnan,” said he, “you come here still furious from 
last night’s adventure. D’Artagnan, I thought your lieart so 
noble that a friendship of twenty years’ duration would have 
resisted a momentary wound to your self-love. Come, now tell 
me, do you really think that you have somewhat with wliich 
to reproach me ? If I am in fault, D’Artagnan, I will confess 
my fault.” 

Athos’s grave and harmonious voice still had its off 
influence on D’Artagnan; while that of Aramis, which always; 
became sharp and harsh in his ill-humour, irritated iiini. 
Therêfore he replied to Athos ; 

“ I think. Monsieur le Comte, that you had a secret to con- 
fide to me at the Chateau de Bragelonne, and that monsieur,” 
he went on to say, as he indicated Aramis, “ had one to 
('onfide to me at his monastery. If this had been done, I 
should not have engaged in an adventure where you would 
have been opposing me. Yet, because I was discreet, it , was 
not necessary to take me for a complete fool. If I had wished 
closely to examine the difference between the persons admitted 
by M. d’Herblay by his rope ladder and those whom he 
admitted by his wooden ladder, I should have compelled him 
to speak to me.” 

“ What are you meddling with ? ” exclaimed Aramis, paie 
with anger at the suspicion lest, having been watched b>^ 
D’Artagnan, he had been seen with Madame de Longueville. * 

“ I meddle with what concerns me, and I can pretend 
not to have seen what does not concern me. But I hate 
hypocrites, and in that category do I place Musketeers who 
become abbés and abbés who become Musketeers ; and,” he 


THE PLACE ROYALE. 


265 


adtled, tuniinGf '^ard Porthos, ^‘here is monsieur who is of 
jiiy opinion/’ 

Porthos, who had not yet spoken, replied by only one word 
and a gesture. 

He said, “ Yes,” and put his hand to his sword. 

Aramis gave a bound backward and drew his weapon. 
D’Artagnan stooped down, ready to attack or to defend him- 
self. 

Then Athos stretched out his hand with that gesture of 
supreme command which belonged to himself alone, slowly 
drew forth his sword and the scabbard at the same time, 
snapped off the blade in its sheath, by breaking it on his knee, 
and threw the two pieces aside. 

Then, turning toward Aramis : 

Aramis,” said he, break your sword.” 

Aramis hesitated. 

You must,” said Athos. Then, in a lower and gentler 
voice, I wish it.” 

Aramis, paler than ever, but vanquished by that gesture, 
conquered by that voice, broke the flexible blade between his 
hands, crossed his arms, and waited, boiling with rage. 

This movement made D’Artagnan and Porthos step back. 
D’Artagnan did not draw his sword ; Porthos sheathed his. 

Never,” said Athos, slowly raising his right hand toward 
» heaven, — never, I swear it before that God who sees and 
hears us in the solemn stillness of this night — never shall my 
sword touch yours — never shall my eye cast a glance of anger 
at you — never shall my heart throb in hatred toward you ! 
We have lived together, we have hated and loved together, we 
have shed and mingled our blood, and perhaps I might yet 
add that there is a bond between us even stronger than 
friendship — perhaps there is the compact of crime. For we all 
four judged, condemned, and executed a human being whom we 
had perhaps no right to cut off from this world, although she 
appeared to belong to hell rather than to this world. D’Arta- 
gnan, I have always loved you as my son. Porthos, we slept 
side by side for ten years. Aramis is your brother, ^s he is 
mine ; for Aramis has always loved you as I do now, and as I 
shall always love you. What can Mazarin be to us, who 
vanquished the hand and heart of such a man as Kichelieu ? 
What can any Prince be to us who established the crown on a 
Queen’s head ? D’Artagnan, pardon me for having crossed my 


266 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


sword with you yesterday ? Aramis does the same to ]^ortho.?;|. 
And now hate me if you can; but I swear to you Æat, in 
spite of your hatred, I shall never cease to esteem ai d lo^ c - 
you. Now repeat my words Aramis; and after that, A th' v i 
wish it, and if you wish it, let us leave our old frien > 3 ier- j 
ever ! ” ! 

There was a moment of solemn silence, which was broken ' 
by Aramis. J 

“ I swear,’’ said he, with a calm front and a loyal look, but i 
with a voice in which a last quiver of emotion was perceptible, j 

— I swear that I have no longer any enmity toward those j 
who were my friends. I swear that I regret having crossed ! 
swords with you, Porthos. I swear, in short, that not only | 
mine shall never again be directed against your heart, but 
that, for the future, no least remnant of a hostile feeling 
against you shall remain hidden in my inmost thought ! 
Come, Athos.” 

Athos made a movement as if to retire. 

Oh, no, no ! do not go ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan, carried 
away by an irresistible outburst that betrayed the warmth of 
his heart and the natural uprightness of his soul, — do not 
go — for I also must take an oath. I swear that I would give 
the last drop of my blood, and the last fragment of my body, 
to keep the esteem of such a man as you are, Athos, and the 
friendship of a man like you, Aramis ! ” And he threw him- 
self into Athos’s arms. 

My son ! ” said Athos, pressing him to his heart. 

<^And I,” ’said Porthos, do not swear, but — Sacre-bleu! 

— I am choking ! If I was compelled to fight against you, I 
verily believe that I should let myself be run through and 
through, for I never loved any but you in the world ! ” 

And the worthy Porthos threw himself into Aramis’s arms, 
with tears in his eyes. 

My friends,” said Athos, ‘‘ this is what I was hoping, what 
I was expecting from such hearts as yours. Yes, I have said 
it, and I repeat it — our destinies are irrevocably united, 
although we may follow different paths. I respect your 
opinion, D’Artagnan ; I respect your conviction, Porthos ; but 
although we fight for opposite sides, let us keep friends. 
Ministers, princes, and kings will pass by like a torrent and 
civil war like a flame ; but shall we remain ? I have a pre- 
sentiment that we shall.” 


THE PL A CE ROYALE. 


267 


^ \ i s/’ said ) >' Artagnan, ^^let us always be Musketeers, and 

ii^ ;.lway"' guard, as our only flag, that famous napkin of the 
l’a..Lion de - Vibi Gervais, which the great Cardinal had em- 
broidered ith .hree fleurs-de-lis.’’ 

Yes,” .said Aramis, Cardinalists or Frondeurs, what do 
we care ? Let us be good seconds to each other in all our 
duels, devoted friends in all serious matters, and joyous friends 
in all our pleasures.” 

And every time that we may chance to meet in the shock 
of battle,” said Athos, at the sole word, ^ Place Royale,’ let 
us change our swords to the left hand and stretch out the 
right to each other, were it in the midst of carnage.” 

You speak admirably,” said Porthos. 

You are the greatest of men,” cried D’Artagnan, and 
■ surpass us by ten cubits. 

Athos smiled with ineffable joy. 

It is, therefore, decided,” said he. Come, gentlemen, 

• give me your hands. Are you in some measure Christians ? ” 
j Pardieu ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

) “We will be so at any rate for this occasion, to remain 
faithful to our oath,” said Aramis. 

“ Ah, I am ready to swear by anything you please,” said 
Porthos, “ even by Mahomet ! The devil take me if I was 
ever so happy in my life as I am at this moment ! ” 

And the good Porthos wiped his eyes still wet. 

“ Has any one of you a cross ? ” demanded Athos. 

Porthos and D’Artagnan looked at each other and shook 
their heads, like men who had been taken unawares. 

Aramis smiled and drew from his bosom a diamond cross, 
hung around his neck by a string of pearls. 

“Here is one,” said he. 

“ Very well ! ” replied Athos, “ let us swear on this cross — ■ 
which, in spite of its materials, is still a cross — let us swear 
to be united, in spite of everything, and forever; and may 
this oath not only bind ourselves, but even our descendants ! 
Does this oath satisfy you ? ” 

“ Yes,” they all said with one voice. 

“ Ah, traitor,” whispered D’Artagnan in Aramis’s ear, — 
“ you have made us swear on the crucifix of a Frondeuse / ” 


268 


TWENTY YEARS APTE 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE FERRY ON THE OISE. 

We hope that the reader has not entirely forgotten the young 
traveller whom we left on the road to Flanders. 

Raoul, on losing sight of his guardian, whom he left gazing 
after him opposite the royal cathedral, had spurred on his 
horse, first to escape his melancholy thoughts, and then to 
conceal from Olivain the emotion that agitated him. 

But an hour of rapid riding quickly dissipated the gloomy 
shadows that had hung darkly over the youth’s fertile imagi- 
nation. That yet unknown pleasure of feeling absolutely free 
— a pleasure that has its charm, even for those who have 
never felt the weight of independence — gilded for Raoul the 
heaven and the earth, and, more than all, the distant and 
azure-tinted horizon of life called the Future. 

And yet he found out, after several attempts at conversation 
with Olivain, that long days passed in this manner would be 
very dull ; and the recollection of the Count’s discourse, so 
gentle, persuasive, and interesting, came back to him, as he 
passed through towns concerning which no one could give him 
such valuable information as he might have drawn from Athos, 
the most intelligent and the most amusing of guides. 

Another recollection also saddened Raoul’s heart. On 
reaching Louvres he had seen a tiny chateau, almost hidden 
by a screen of poplars, and this had so forcibly recalled that of 
La Vallière to his memory that he had stopped nearly ten 
minutes to look at it, and had resumed his journey sighing, 
and without answering Olivain, who had respectfully ques- 
tioned him as to the cause of this delay. The aspect of exter- 
nal objects is a mysterious conductor corresponding to the fibres 
of memory — it makes them awaken, sometimes in spite of our- 
selves ; and when once this thread is touched, like Ariadne’s, 
it leads in to a labyrinth of thoughts, where one is lost in fol- 
lowing that shadow of the past which is called Recollection. 
Now, the sight of this château had sent Raoul back fifty 
leagues toward the west, and had made him trace back his life 
from the moment when” he took leave of his little Louise to 
that when he saw her for the first time ; and each clump of 
oaks, each weathercock surmounting a tiled roof, reminded him 


THE FERRY ON THE OISE. 


269 


that, instead of returning to the friends of his childhood, he 
( was every moment going farther from them, and that, perhaps, 
he had even left them forever. 

With swelling heart and heavy head, he commanded Olivain 
to take the horses to a small inn, which he saw by the road- 
side, about half a muskehshot from the spot they had reached. 
He himself dismounted, and remained under a beautiful group 
of chestnuts in full blossom, around which multitudes of bees 
were buzzing, and desired Olivain to order the host to bring 
paper and ink to a table which he saw there, all ready for him 
to write on. 

Olivain obeyed and rode along ; while Raoul sat down, lean- 
ing his elbow on the table, with his eyes wandering vaguely 
over the charming landscape, sprinkled with green fields and 
clusters of trees ; from time to time he shook from his hair the 
blossoms that fell on him like snowflakes. 

He had been there about ten minutes, during five of which 
he was lost in a reverie, when he saw a rubicund figure, with 
a napkin about his body and one on his arm, and a white cap 
on his head, coming toward him, with pen, ink, and paper in 
his hand. 

Aha ! ” said this apparition, ^‘it is plain that all gentlemen 
have the same ideas ; for it is not a quarter of an hour since a 
young nobleman, well mounted, as you are, of lofty air, like 
yourself, and about the same age, halted under this cluster of 
trees, and made me bring this table and this chair, and dined 
here with an old gentleman, who looked like his tutor, off a 
l)ie, not a crumb of which they left, and a bottle of old Mâcon 
wine, not one drop of which they left. But fortunately we 
have some more of the same wine, and pies of equal goodness ; 
and if, sir, you will give your orders ’’ — 

No, my friend,’^ said Eaoul, smiling, “ I thank you. At 
present I merely want what I have asked for ; only I hope the 
ink is black and the pen good ; on these conditions I will give 
the price of the wine for the ink and the price of the pie for 
the pen.’’ 

Very well, sir,” said the host, I will give the wine and the 
pie to your servant, and in this way you will get the pen and 
ink into the bargain.” 

“ Do as you like,” said Raoul, who began his apprenticeship 
with this peculiar class of society, which, when there were 
robbers on the highway, was leagued with them, and which, 


270 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


now there are no longer any robbers, very worthily supplies j 
their place. 

The host, made easy by payment in advance, laid the pen, ink, ; 
and paper on the table. The pen chanced to be a tolerable 
one, and Raoul began to write. 

The host had remained standing before him, and looked with 
involuntary admiration at that charming countenance, so 
serious and yet so gentle. Beauty always has been, and al- 
ways will be, a queen. 

He is not such a guest as I had just now,” said the host to | 
Olivain, who came to see if Raoul wanted anything ; your i 
young master has no appetite.” 

My young master had plenty of appetite three days ago,” 
said Olivain ; “ but what would you have ? He lost it the day 
before yesterday.” 

And Olivain and the host went to the inn — Olivain, as is 
usual with lacqueys who are hapj^y in their situations, recount- 
ing all he could concerning the young gentleman. 

In the meantime Raoul was writing : | 

Sir : I 

“ After having travelled four hours, I stop to write to you ; 
for I miss you every moment, and I arn always ready to turn 
my head to answer you, as if you were speaking to me. I teas 
so completely stunned at your departure, and so greatly dis- 
tressed at our separation, that I very feebly expressed all the 
tenderness and gratitude 1 felt for you. You will excuse me, 
sir ; for your heart is so generous that you must have under- 
stood all that passed in mine. Write to me, sir, I beseech you, 
for your counsels constitute a part of my existence ; and be- 
sides, if I may say so, I am uneasy ; it seemed to me that you 
were prepa.ring yourself for soms perilous expedition, on which 
I dared, not ask you any questions, for you told me nothing 
about it. Therefore you may imagine that I much want to 
hear from you. Since you are 'no longer near me, I am in 
continual fear of making some mistake. You were my main 
support, sir, and now I protest that I find myself very solitary. 

^^Will you be so kind, sir, when you receive any news from 
Blois, to ^ send me a few ivords concerning my little friend. 
Mademoiselle de la V allier e, whose health, you are aware, was 
causing some anxiety at our departure ? You understand, my 
dear guardian, how valuable, indeed indispensable, to me is the 


THE FERRY ON THE OISE, 


271 


recollection of the time that I have passed with you. I hope 
that sometimes you will also think of me ; and if you should miss 
me at certain moments, if you should experience some slight 
regret at my absence, I should feel overwhelmed ivith joy on 
thinking that you have perceyived my affection for you and devo- 
tion to you, and that I have been able to make you realise them 
during the time that I had the happiness of living with you.’’ 

When his letter was finished, Raoul felt calmer. He looked 
to see if the tavern-keeper and Olivain were watching him, and 
then impressed a kiss on the paper — a mute and touching 
caress, which the heart of Athos was capable of divining as he 
opened the letter. 

In the meantime, Olivain had druùk his bottle and eaten 
his pie. The horses also were refreshed ; and Raoul, having 
beckoned the host to come to him, threw a crown on the table, 
remounted his horse, and put his letter into the post at Senlis. 

The repose that the horses and their riders had taken al- 
lowed them to continue their Journey without stopping. At 
Verberie, Raoul ordered Olivain to get some information about 
the young gentleman who preceded them. He had been seen 
to pass by about three-quarters of an hour before ; but, as the 
innkeeper had said, he was well mounted, and travelling at a 
good pace. 

Let us try to overtake this gentleman,” said Raoul to Oli- 
vain. Like ourselves, he is going to the army, and would be 
an agreeable company for us.” 

It was four o’clock in the afternoon when Raoul reached 
Compiègne. He there made a good dinner, and again inquired 
about the young gentleman who was before him. He had 
stopped, like Raoul, at the Hôtel de la Cloche et de la Bou- 
teille, which was the best inn at Compiègne, and had con- 
tinued his journey, saying that he should sleep at Hoy on. 

Let us sleep at Noyon also,” said Raoul. 

Sir,” answered Olivain respectfully, allow me to observe 
that we have already greatly fatigued the horses. It would 
be a better plan, I think, to sleep here, and to set off early in 
the morning. Eighteen leagues are quite sufficient for a first 
day’s journey.” 

Monsieur le Comte de la Eère wishes me to make haste,” 
said Raoul, and wants me to join the Prince on the fourth 
morning; let us, therefore, push on to Hoy on; that will be a 


272 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


day’s ride equal to what we made on coming up from Blois to 
Paris. We shall get there by eight o’clock ; the horses will 
have the whole night to rest; and to-morrow, at five in the | 
morning, we will start anew.” ! 

Olivain dared not oppose this determination ; but he fol- j 
lowed, murmuring. j 

“ Go on, go on,” said he between his teeth, and expend your j 
fire the first day. To-morrow, instead of a journey of twenty j 
leagues, you will make one of ten ; day after to-morrow, one of j 
five ; and in three days you will be in bed. Then you will be 
obliged to rest. All these young gentlemen are such boasters.” 

It is quite perceptible that Olivain had not been brought up 
in the school of the Planchets and Grimauds. 

Raoul really felt fatigued, but he wanted to try his powers ; i 
educated in the principles of Athos, and quite certain of having 
heard him talk a thousand times of rides of twenty-five leagues, 
he did not wish to be inferior to his model. D’Artagnan, 
also, that iron man, who appeared to be formed of sinews and 
muscles, had struck him with admiration. 

He was, therefore, urging his horse forward faster and 
faster, in spite of Olivain’s observations, and following a 
charming little by-road that led to a ferry and shortened 
the distance a league, as he had been told, when, on reach- 
ing a hilltop, he perceived the river before him. A small 
body of horsemen was standing on the bank, ready to embark. 
Raoul had no doubt that this was the gentleman and his 
escort. He called out to them, but the distance prevented his 
being heard. Then Raoul put his horse, tired as it was, to the 
gallop ; but an undulation of ground soon concealed the travel- 
lers from his view, and when he reached another elevation the 
ferry-boat had left the bank and was gliding to the other side. 

Raoul, seeing that he could not arrive in time to pass the 
ferry with the travellers, stopped for Olivain. 

At this moment a cry was heard that seemed to come 
from the river. Raoul turned in the direction whence it pro- 
ceeded, and putting his hand before his eyes, Avhich were daz- 
zled by the setting sun : 

Olivain,” said he, what do I see down there ? ” 

A second cry resounded, more piercing than the first. 

Oh, sir ! ” cried Olivain, “ the ferry -rope is broken, and 
the boat is drifting away with the stream. But what do I see 
in the water — some one struggling ? ” 


THE FERRY ON THE OISE. 


273 


Oh, it certainly is a horse and a rider ! ’’ exclaimed Raoul, 
gazing at a part of the river where the sun was shining splen- 
didly. 

They are sinking ! ” cried out Olivain. 

It was indeed true ; and Raoul began to be convinced that 
an accident had happened, and that a man was drowning. 
He gave his horse his head, struck the spurs into his flanks, 
and the animal, urged by the pain and feeling his freedom, 
leaped over a kind of railing which surrounded the place 
of embarkation and fell into the river, driving far before 
him whole floods of foam. 

Ah, sir ! ’’ cried Olivain, what in the world are you 
doing ? Seigneur Dieu 

Raoul directed his horse toward the drowning man. And, 
after all, it was an exercise with which he was familiar. 
Brought up on the banks of the Loire, he had, it may be said, 
been cradled on its waves. A hundred times had he crossed 
it on horseback, a thousand by swimming. 

Athos, foreseeing the time when he should make a soldier 
of the Viscount, had schooled him in these exercises. 

Oh, mon Dieu ! ’’ cried Olivain, in utter despair, what 
would the Count say if he saw you now ? ” 

He would have done just the same himself,’’ said Raoid, 
vigorously urging his horse forward. 

But I — I ! — what am I to do ? ” cried Olivain, in great 
agitation, on the bank of the river. How am I to get 
across ? ” 

Leap, coward ! ” exclaimed Raoul, still swimming. Then 
addressing the traveller, who was struggling about twenty 
paces from him : Courage ! sir,” said he ; courage ! Help is 
at hand.” 

Olivain advanced, retreated, made his horse rear and turn 
round ; and at last, goaded by shame, he leaped in, as Raoul 
had done, but crying out : 

I am a dead man ! We are lost ! ” 

In the meantime the boat went rapidly down, being carried 
away by the stream, and the cries of those it bore were heard 
at a distance. 

A grey-haired man had leaped from the ferry-boat into the 
river, and was swimming vigorously toward the drowning 
person ; yet he made but little progress, for he was obliged to 
go against the stream, 


274 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Eaoul still went on, and visibly gained ground ; but the j 
horse and its rider, whom he kept in sight, were perceptibly j 
sinking. The horse had only his nostrils above the water ; j 
and the rider, who had lost the reins in his struggles, stretched ! 
out his arms and let his head fall back. A minute more and , 
all disappeared. 

Courage ! ” cried Eaoul, — courage ! 

^^It is too late,” murmured the young man, — too late!” 
The water passed above his head and stifled his voice. 

Eaoul sprang from his horse, which he left to take care of 
itself, and in three or four strokes was close to the gentleman. 
He immediately seized the horse by the bit and raised his head 
above the water ; the animal thus breathed more freely, and, 
as if it had known that assistance was come, it redoubled its 
efforts. Eaoul at the same time laid hold of one of the young 
man’s hands and guided it to the mane, which it grasped with 
the tenacity of a drowning man. Certain that the rider would 
not now let go his hold, Eaoul devoted all his attention to the 
horse, which he guided toward the opposite bank, assisting it 
and encouraging it with his voice. Suddenly the animal struck 
shallow water and got a footing. 

Saved ! ” exclaimed the grey -haired man as he also reached 
the shallow water. 

Saved ! ” mechanically murmured the gentleman, letting go 
the mare and falling from the saddle into Eaoul’s arms. 

Eaoul was not ten paces from the bank, to which he carried 
the gentleman, perfectly insensible, laid him on the grass, un- 
tied the strings of his collar, and unfastened the clasps of his 
doublet. 

A minute after the grey-haired man was by his side. 

Olivain had also at last managed to land, after making many 
signs of the cross ; and the people in the boat directed them- 
selves to shore as well as they could by the aid of a pole which 
was, by chance, on board. 

Gradually, thanks to the measures taken by Eaoul and the 
man who accompanied the young cavalier, life returned to the 
pale cheeks of the dying youth, who opened his eyes, at first 
wandering, but soon fixed on his preserver. 

Ah, sir ! ” he exclaimed, I was looking for you. But for 
you I should have been dead — three times dead.” 

But you are recovering, sir,” said Eaoul, and we shall get 
off with only a ducking.” 


THE FERRY ON THE OISE. 275 

; sir, what gratitude do we owe you!’^ said the grey- 

haired man. 

Ah ! are you here, my good D’Arminges ? I have fright- 
ened you enough, have I not? But it is your own fault. 
You were my tutor ; why did you not teach me to swim 
better ? ’’ 

“ Ah, Count ! ” replied the old man, if any misfortune had 
befallen you I should never have dared to appear before the 
Marshal again. 

But how did the thing happen ? inquired Baoul. 

In the simplest manner in the world, sir,’^ replied he who 
was called Count. We were about a third of the way across 
when the ferry-rope broke. My horse, frightened by the cries 
and the bustle of the boatmen, leaped into the stream. I 
swim but badly, and did not dare to throw myself into the 
river, so that instead of aiding I paralyzed my horse’s efforts, 
and I was in a fair way of drowning most gallantly when you 
reached me just in the nick of time to pull me out of the 
water. Therefore, sir, if you have no objection, we are from 
henceforth friends for life and death.” 

Sir,” answered Baoul, I am entirely at your service, I 
assure you.” 

My name is the Comte de Guiche,” continued the cava- 
lier; ^^my father is the Marshal de Grammont. And now 
that you know who I am, will you do me the honour to tell 
me who: you are?” 

“ I am the Viscomte de Bragelonne,” said Baoul, blushing 
that he could not name his father, as the Comte de Guiche had 
done. 

Viscount, your face, your kindness, and your courage 
attract me. You already possess all my gratitude. Let us 
embrace. I ask your friendship.” 

Sir,” said Baoul, returning the Count’s embrace, I al- 
ready love you with all my heart. Consider me, therefore, 
I beseech you, as your devoted friend.” 

And now, where are you going. Viscount ? ” inquired De 
Guiche. 

To the Prince’s army. Count.” 

“ And so am I,” exclaimed the Count, in a transport of joy. 
Ah ! so much the better; we will fire our first pistol-shot 
together.” 

That ’s right,” said the tutor; love each other; you are 


276 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 



were destined to meet.’’ 


The two young men smiled with the confidence of youth. { 
And now,” said the tutor, you must change your dress. I 
Your lacqueys, to whom I gave orders the moment they left j 
the ferry-boat, must have already reached the hôtel ; they are ] 
warming the linen and wine. Come ! ” j 

The young men had no objection to make to this proposi- : 
tion; on the contrary, they thought it excellent. They imme- | 
diately remounted their horses, looking at and admiring each 
other. They were, in reality, two elegant cavaliers, with 
active and slender figures, noble and open faces, mild yet 
proud looks, with bright and winning smiles. De Guiche might 
be about eighteen years old, but he was scarcely taller than 
Raoul, who was only fifteen. 

By a spontaneous impulse they joined hands, and spurring 
their horses, rode from the river to the hôtel, side by side ; the 
one finding a fascination and joy in that life which he had so 
nearly lost ; the other thanking God that he had already lived 
long enough to perform an action that would be pleasing to his 
guardian. 

Olivain was the only one whom his master’s spirited exploit 
did not completely satisfy. He kept wringing out the sleeves 
and skirts of his coat, thinking that if they had halted at 
Compiegne, he would not only have escaped this accident, 
but also the cold and rheumatism that must naturally result 
from it. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE SKIKMISH. 

The halt at Noyon was short, and every one slept soundly. 
Raoul had given orders to call him if Grimaud came ; but 
Grimaud did not come. 

The horses doubtless fully appreciated the eight hours of 
uninterrupted rest and of abundant provender granted them. 
The Comte de Guiche was awakened at five by Raoul, who 
came to wish him good morning. They breakfasted in haste, 
and by six o’clock had already ridden two leagues. 

The young Count’s conversation was most interesting to 


THE SKIRMISH. 


2T7 


Eaoul, who listened attentively, and the Count talked inces- 
santly. Educated at Paris, where Eaoul had only been once, 

— at the Court, which Eaoul had never seen, — his pranks as 
a page, two duels in which he had contrived to be engaged, 
in spite of the edicts, and, more than all, in spite of his tutor, 

— these were things that appealed most powerfully to EaouPs 
curiosity. Eaoul had been only to M. Scaripn’s, and he told 
De Guiche the persons he had seen there. De Guiche knew 
every one : Madame de Neuillan, Mademoiselle d’Aubigne, 
Mademoiselle de Scndéry, Mademoiselle Paulet, and Madame 
de Chevreuse. He satirised every one with keen wit. Eaoul 
trembled lest he should also satirise Madame de Chevreuse, 
for whom he felt a genuine deep sympathy. But whether 
from instinct, or from affection for the Duchesse de Che- 
vreiise, the Count praised her most warmly ; this doubled 
Eaoul’s friendship for him. 

Then came the topic of gallantries and love-affairs. On 
this, also, Bragelonne had much more to hear than to tell. So 
he listened and fancied that he could perceive, through three 
or four rather insignificant adventures, that the Count, like 
himself, had a secret hidden in the bottom of his heart. 

De Guiche, as we have said, had been brought up at Coiirt, 
and all its intrigues were well known to him. It was that 
Court of which Eaoul had heard so much from the Comte de 
la Fère ; only it had greatly changed since the period when 
Athos had himself seen it. Consequently the Comte de 
Guiche’ s story was quite fresh to his companion. The young 
Count, sarcastic and witty, passed every one in review. He 
related the former amours of Madame de Longueville with 
Coligny, and his fatal duel on the Place Eoyale, with 
Madame de Longueville witnessing it from behind a window- 
blind ; her recent amours with the Prince de Marcillac, who 
was said to be so jealous of her that he would willingly kill 
every one, even the Abbé d’Herblay, her spiritual director ; 
the amour of the Prince of Wales with Mademoiselle, who 
was afterwards called la grande Mademoiselle, and celebrated 
for her secret marriage with Lauzun. The Queen herself was 
not spared ; and the Cardinal Mazarin had also a share of his 
raillery. 

The day passed like an hour. The CounPs tutor, a man 
of the world, fond of • good living, and, as his pupil de- 
clared, wise to his very teeth, often reminded Eaoul of 


278 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Atlios,' his profound learning and his keen and sarcastic witti- 
cisms ; yet for grace, delicacy, and nobility of appearance no 
one could be compared to the Comte de la Fère. 

With more consideration for their horses than had been dis- 
played on the previous day, they halted about four o’clock in 
the afternoon at Arras. They were approaching, the scene of 
war, and determined to remain at that town till the morning, 
as parties of Spkniards sometimes took advantage of the night 
to make excursions, even to the outskirts of Arras. 

The French army stretched from Pont-a-Marc to Valen- 
ciennes, covering Douai. The Prince himself was said to be 
at Béthune. 

The enemy’s army extended from Cassel to Courtray ; and 
as they committed every species of outrage and pillage, the 
poor people on the frontiers were leaving their lonely dwell- 
ings and taking refuge in the fortified towns, which promised 
them protection. Arras was thus encumbered with fugitives. 

There was talk of an immediate battle that would probably 
be decisive, the Prince up to that time having been only man- 
oeuvring, in expectation of his reenforcements ; these had just 
reached him. The young men congratulated themselves on 
arriving so opportunely. 

They supped together, and slept in the same chamber. They 
were at the age of sudden friendships ; it seemed to them that 
they had known each other since their childhood, and that it 
would be impossible for them ever again to separate. 

The evening was passed in talking war. The lacqueys 
cleaned their arms ; the young men loaded their pistols to be 
prepared for a skirmish ; and they woke up in despair, having 
both dreamt that they had arrived too late for the battle. 

In the morning it was reported that the Prince de Coudé 
had evacuated Béthune, to retire on Carvin, leaving, however, 
a garrison in the former town ; but as this news • was not 
certain, the young men determined to continue their journey 
toward Béthune, since it was in their power to strike off to 
the right on their way and ride to Carvin. 

The Comte de Guiche’s tutor had a thorough knowledge of 
the country ; so he proposed to take a cross-road that led 
between the road of Lens and that of Béthune. At Ablain 
they would get news. Directions were left for Grimaud. 

They set off about seven o’clock in the morning. 

De Guiche, who was young and impetuous, said to Baoul : 


THE SKIRMISH. 


279 


Here we are, three masters and three valets. Our valets 
are well armed; and yours appears do me to be a toimh 
fellow.” 

‘‘ I have never seen him at work,” answered Raoul ; but 
he is a Breton, and that promises well.” 

Yes, yes,” said De Guiche, and I am certain that he 
would use his musket on a proper occasion. I have two trusty 
men, who served with my father ; we are therefore six com- 
batants. If we should fall in with a small body of partisans, 
equal, or even superior to ourselves, shall we not charge them, 
Roaul ? ” ' 

Yes, sir, by all means,” answered Raoul. 

Holà, young gentlemen, holà ! ” cried the tutor, mingling 
in the conversation. Vertudieu ! how you are getting on! 
And my instructions too. Count ? Do you forget that I have 
orders to conduct you safe and sound to the Prince ? Once 
with the army, yoii may get yourself killed if you like ; but 
till then, as general-in-chief, I tell you I shall command a 
retreat and turn back at the first feather that I spy out.” 

De Guiche and Raoul smiled and looked at each other out 
of the corners of their eyes. The country was growing some- 
what wooded, and from time to time they met small com- 
panies of peasants, who were retreating, driving their cattle 
before them, and carrying in their wagons, or their arms, their 
most valuable effects. 

They reached Ablain without accident. There they learnt 
that the Prince had really quitted Béthune, and was halting 
between Cambrin and La Venthie, so, after again leaving 
directions for Grimaud, they took a cross-road, which in about 
half an hour conducted the little troop to the banks of a small 
stream that runs into the Lys. 

The country was charming, intersected by valleys as green 
as emerald. From time to time they came upon small copses, 
through which the road they were following ran. At each of 
these woods, the tutor, fearing some ambuscade, put the Count’s 
two lacqueys in front as a vanguard. The tutor and the two 
young men formed the main body of the army ; and Olivain, 
with his carbine on his knee and his eye alert, protected the 
rear. 

For some time a tolerably dense forest had been rising in 
the horizon. Having arrived within a hundred paces of this 
wood, M. d’Arminges took his usual precautions and sent the 


280 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Count’s two lacqueys forward. They had just disappeared | 
under the trees, the young men and the tutor, laughing and j 
talking, followed at about the distance of a hundred paces, j 
and Olivain was the same distance in the rear, when suddenly ' 
live or six musket-shots were heard. The tutor cried out, 
Halt ! ” The young men obeyed, and drew up their horses. 
At the same moment the two lacqueys were seen returning at 
full gallop. 

The young men, eager to learn the cause of this firing, 
pushed forward to meet the lacqueys and the tutor followed 
them. 

Were you stopped ?” demanded the young men eagerly. 

No,” replied the lacqueys, probably we were not even 
seen ; the shots were fired a hundred paces or so in advance of 
us, in the thickest part of the wood, and we are come for 
orders.” 

My advice,” said M. d’Arminges, and, if necessary, my 
command, is that we turn back ; this wood may conceal an 
ambuscade.” 

Did you not see anything ? ” said the Count to the lacqueys. 

“ I thought I saw some horsemen,” replied one of them, 
dressed in yellow, gliding into the bed of the stream.” 

That ’s it ! ” said the tutor ; “ we have fallen in with a party 
of Spaniards. Back, gentlemen, back ! ” 

The young men consulted each other by a glance, and at 
this moment a pistol-shot was heard, followed by two or three 
cries for help. 

The youths made themselves sure, by another glance, that 
they were both of the same mind not to retreat ; and as the 
tutor had already turned his horse they both spurred forward, 
llaoul crying out, ^‘Follow me, Olivain!” and the Count, 
Follow me, Urbain and Blanch et ! ” 

And before the tutor had recovered from his surprise they 
had already disappeared in the forest. 

While the young men were spurring their horses each took a 
pistol in his hand. 

In less than five minutes they reached the place whence the 
noise appeared to have come ; there they checked their horses 
and went forward with precaution. 

Hush ! ” said De Guiche, there are some horsemen.” 

“ Yes ; three on their horses and three who have dis- 
mounted,” 


THE SKIRMISH. 


281 


What are they doing ? Can you see ? ” 

“Yes ; it seems to me they are plundering some one 
wounded or dead.” 

“ It is a cowardly assassination,” said De Guiche. 

“ And yet they are soldiers,” replied Bragelonne. 

Yes, but partisans ; that is to say, highway robbers.” 

“ Charge ! ” said Raoul. 

“ Charge ! ” responded De Guiche. 

“ Gentlemen ! ” cried the poor tutor, “ gentlemen, in the 
name of Heaven ” — 

But the young men did not heed him ; they were gone off in 
emulation, and the tutor’s cries had no other result than to 
rouse the attention of the Spaniards. 

The three partisans who were on horseback immediately 
rushed forward to meet the two young men, while the three 
others finished plundering the two travellers ; for, on coming 
near, the young men perceived two bodies, instead of one, 
stretched on the ground. 

At the distance of ten paces De Guiche fired first, and 
missed his man. The Spaniard who was coming to meet 
Raoul fired in his turn, and Raoul felt a pain, like a blow from 
a whip, in his left arm. At four paces he fired his shot, and 
the Spaniard, struck in the middle of the chest, stretched out 
his arms, and fell back on the crupper of his horse, which 
turned and bore him "off. 

At this moment Raoul saw, as through a cloud, the barrel 
of a musket directed toward him. Athos’s advice came into 
his mind ; by a motion as quick as lightning he made his 
horse rear. The shot was fired ; the horse shied, lost his foot- 
ing, and fell, with Raoul’s leg under him. 

The Spaniard rushed forward, clubbing his musket, to break 
Raoul’s head with the butt-end. 

Unfortunately, in Raoul’s position he could neither draw 
his sword from the scabbard nor a pistol from his holsters ; he 
saw the butt of the musket swinging over his head, and, in 
spite of himself, he was just closing his eyes, when, with one 
bound. De Guiche was on the Spaniard, and put his pistol to 
his head. 

“ Surrender,” cried he, “ or you are a dead man ! ” 

The musket fell from the hand of the soldier, who immedi- 
ately gave in. 

Guiche called one of his lacqueys, delivered the prisoner 


282 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


into his custody, with orders to blow out his brains if he at- 
tempted to escape, leaped from his horse, and went up to 
Eaoul. 

-Faith, sir,” said Kaoul, laughing, although his pallor be- 
trayed the natural emotion of a first affair, you are prompt in 
paying your debts ; evidently you do not wish to remain longer 
under obligation. But for you,” said he, repeating the Count’s 
words, I had been dead — three times dead.” 

“ My opponent, by taking flight,” said De Guiche, made it 
quite easy for me to come to your aid. But are you seriously 
wounded ? I see that you are covered with blood.” 

‘‘I believe,” said Eaoul, that I have something like a 
scratch on my arm. Help me to get out from under my horse, 
and nothing, I hope, will prevent our continuing our journey.” 

. M. d’Arminges and Olivain had already dismounted, and 
were raising the horse, which was struggling in its last agonies. 
Eaoul managed to draw his foot from the stirrup and his leg 
from beneath the horse, and in a moment he was up. 

“ Nothing broken ? ” said De Guiche. 

Faith, no, thank Heaven ! ” answered Eaoul. But what 
is become of the unfortunate men whom these wretches have 
assasinated ? ” 

We got here too late ; they have killed them, I believe, 
and escaped with their booty. My two lacqueys are standing, 
by the bodies.” 

^^Let us go and see whether they are quite dead, and if 
some assistance might not be given them,” said Eaoul. Oli- 
vain, we have obtained two horses, but I have lost mine ; take 
the best of the two for yourself and give me yours.” 

And they went to the place where the two victims lay ex- 
tended on the ground. 


CHAPTEE XXXIII. 

THE MONK. 

Two men lay stretched out : the one motionless, with his 
face on the earth, pierced by three balls and swimming in 
blood, — this one was dead. 

The other had been placed with his back against a tree by 
the two lacqueys, and, with his eyes raised toward Heaven, 



■‘COME HERE, SIR, PERHAPS THE OTHER MAY BE SAVED.” 









THE MONK. 


283 


and clasped hands, he was praying earnestly. He had 
received a ball which had broken his thigh bone. 

The young men went first to the dead man, and looked at 
each other with astonishment. 

He is a priest,^’ said Bragelonne ; “ he wears the tonsure. 
Oh, the cursed wretches, who could lay hands on the ministers 
of God ! ’’ 

“ Come here, sir,” said Urbain, an old soldier, who had gone 
through all the campaigns with the Cardinal Duke ; come 
here. Nothing can be done with that man ; but perhaps the 
other may be saved.” 

The wounded man smiled sadly. 

Save me ! No,” said he ; but you can assist me to die.” 

“ Are you a priest ? ” demanded Kaoul. 

No, sir.” 

Because it seems your unfortunate companion belonged to 
the Church,” said Kaoul. 

He is the curé of Béthune, sir. He was carrying the 
sacred vessels of his church, and the treasure of his chapter, to 
a place of safety ; for the Prince abandoned our town yester- 
day and perhaps the Spaniards may be there to-morrow. Now, 
as it was known that parties of the enemy were scouring the 
country, and the expedition was dangerous, no one- dared to 
accompany him. I therefore offered myself.” 

And these wretches attacked you — these abominable 
wretches fired upon a priest!” 

Gentlemen,” said the wounded man, looking round him, 
I am in great pain, and yet I should like to be carried into 
some house.” 

Where your wound might be treated,” said De Guiche. 

No — where I may confess.” 

But, perhaps,” said Kaoul, you are not so dangerously 
wounded as you imagine.” 

Sir,” said the wounded man, believe me, there is no time 
to lose ; the ball has broken the thigh bone and penetrated 
the intestines.” 

Are you a doctor ? ” asked De Guiche. 

No,” said the dying man ; but I know something of 
wounds, and mine is mortal. Endeavour, therefore, to carry 
me somewhere where I can find a j^riest, or take the trouble to 
bring one here, and God will reward the righteous act. My 
soul must be saved — my body is lost.” 


284 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


‘‘ To (lie in performing snch a good action ! It is impossi- 
ble ! ’’ said Eaoui. 

Gentlemen, in the name of Heaven,” said the wounded 
man, rallying all his strength to rise, “ let ns not lose time in 
useless words. Either assist me in gaining the neighbouring 
village or swear to me, by your hopes of salvation, that you 
will send me the first priest, the first monk, the filst curé you 
meet. But,” he added, in accents of despair, “ perhaps no one 
will dare to come — for it is known that the Spaniards are 
scouring the country — and I shall die without absolution ! 
My God ! my God ! ” added the wounded man in an accent of 
terror which made the young men shudder ; you will not 
allow that, will you ? It would be too terrible ! ” 

Calm yourself, sir,” said De Guiche ; I swear that you 
shall have the consolation you ask for. Only tell us where 
there is a house where we can ask for assistance, and a village 
where we may seek for a priest.” 

“Thank you, and may God reward you ! There is an inn 
about half a league from this spot, on this same road ; and, 
about a league beyond dhe inn, you will find the village of 
Greney. Go to the curé, or should he not be at home go to the 
convent of the Augustins, which is the last house in the village, 
on the right-hand side, and bring me one of the brothers. 
What does it signify, monk or curé, provided he has received 
from Holy Church the power of absolution m articiilo mortis ? ” 

“ M. d’Arminges,” said De Guiche, “ remain with this unfor- 
tunate man, and take care that he is carried as gently as pos- 
sible. Make a litter with the branches of trees, and put all 
our cloaks on it ; two of our lacqueys will carry it, while the 
third will be ready to relieve the one who may be tired. The 
Viscount and I will go in search of a priest.” 

“ Go, sir,” said the tutor ; “ but, in the name of Heaven, do 
not expose yourself ! ” 

“ Make yourself easy. Besides, we are safe for to-day. You 
know the axiom — ^ Non bis in idem.’ ” 

“ Courage, sir,” said Raoul to the wounded man ; “ we go to 
perform your wishes.” 

“ God bless you, gentlemen ! ” replied the dying man, in a 
tone of gratitude impossible to describe. 

And the two youths went off at a gallop in the direction 
pointed out, while the tutor superintended the making of the 
litter. 


THE MONK. 


285 


After having proceeded about ten minutes, the young men 
perceived the inn. 

Raoul, without dismounting, called the landlci’d, and 
informed him that a wounded man would shortly be brought 
to his house, and requested him to prepare everything neces- 
sary for dressing his wound, such as a bed, bandages, and lint ; 
he asked him, moreover, if he knew of any physician or surgi- 
cal operator, to send for him, and engaged himself to pay the 
messenger. 

The landlord, seeing two young gentlemen richly dressed, 
promised all they asked ; and our two cavaliers, after having 
seen the preparations for his reception begun, again departed 
and spurred forward toward Greney. 

They had proceeded about a league and were already begin- 
ning to distinguish the first houses of the town, the roofs of 
which, covered with red tiles, stood out against the green 
trees surrounding them, when they saw coming toward them, 
mounted on a mule, a poor monk, whom, from his large hat 
and his grey woolen frock, they took for an Augustinian 
friar. This time chance appeared to send them' what they 
sought. 

They drew near to the monk. 

He was a man of about twenty-two or twenty-three years 
of age, but ascetic habits had apparently aged him. He was 
pale — not with that clear pallor which is comely, but of a 
bilious yellow ; his short hair, which came scarcely below his 
hat, was very light ; and his clear blue eyes seemed devoid of 
speculation. 

Sir,” said Raoul, with his usual politeness, are you an 
ecclesiastic ? ” 

Why do you ask me ? ” said the stranger, with an indiffer- 
ence almost uncivil. 

‘^ That we may know it,” replied the Comte de Guiche 
haughtily. 

The stranger touched his mule with his heel and continued 
on his way. 

He Guiche placed himself before him and barred his pas- 
sage. ‘^Answer, sir,” said he; ^^you have been questioned 
politely, and every question deserves an answer.” 

I am at liberty, I suppose, to say or not to say who I am, 
to the two first chance comers who may take a fancy to 
question me ? ” 


286 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


De Guiche with difficulty restrained the violent desire iie 
had to break the monk’s bones. * 

“ Fir^t/’ said he, making a great effort to master himself, 
“we arë'^ not the two first chance comers. My friend is the 
Vicomte de Bragelonne, and I am Ihe Comte de Guiche. Be- 
sides, it is not from any caprice that we ask you the question ; 
for there is a man yonder, wounded and dying, who is implor- 
ing the aid of the Church. If you are a priest, I charge you, 
in the name of humanity, to come with me to this man’s aid ; 
and if you are not, it is another thing ; and I warn you, in the 
name of that courtesy which you seem so completely to ignore, 
that I shall chastise you for your insolence.” 

The monk’s pallor became lividness ; and he smiled in such 
a strange manner that Baoul, who did not take his eyes off 
him, felt that smile wring his heart like an insult. 

“ He is some Spanish or Flemish spy,” said he, putting his 
hand to the butt of one of his pistols. 

A menacing glance like a lightning flash was the reply to 
Baoul’ s remark. 

“ Well, sir, will you answer ? ” demanded De Guiche. 

“ I am a priest, gentlemen,” said the young man. 

And his countenance resumed its usual indifference. 

“ Then, father,” said Baoul, letting his pistol again fall into 
the holster, and assuming a tone of respect that did not come 
from his heart, — “ then, if you are a priest, you will, as my 
friend has said, speedily have an opportunity of exercising 
your vocation. An unfortunate man, who is coming this way 
and is wounded, will soon be at the next inn. He asks for 
the assistance of one of , God’s ministers. Our people are now 
waiting on him.” 

“ I will go there,” said the monk. 

And he touched his mule with his heel. 

“ If you do not go there, sir,” said De Guiche, “ depend on it 
that we have horses capable of overtaking your mule, and suf- 
ficient influence to have you arrested, wherever you may be ; 
and then, I swear, your trial will soon be finished. A tree and 
a cord are to be found everywhere ! ” 

The monk's eye flashed again, but that was all. He re- 
peated his phrase, “ I am going there,” and departed. 

“ Let us follow him,” said De Guiche ; “ it will be the safest 
way.” 

“I was going to propose it,” said Bragelonne. 


THE MONK. 


28T 


And .the two young men proceeded, regulating their pace by 
that of the monk, whom they followed at about the distance of 
a pistol-shot. 

After about five minutes the monk turned round to see 
whether he were followed or not. 

“ Do you see ? ” said Eaoul ; “ we have done well.^’ 

‘‘ What a horrible face that monk has ! ” said De Guiche. 

Horrible ! ” replied Raoul ; and especially his expression — 
his yellow hair, his dull eyes, his lips which disappear every 
time he speaks.” 

Yes, yes,” said De Guiche, who had been less struck by all 
these particulars, for Raoul was examining him while De 
Guiche was talking, — yes, a strange face ; but these monks 
are compelled to undergo such degrading practices. Their 
fasts make them pale, the cruelty of their discipline makes 
them hypocrites, and their eyes grow dull through lamenting the 
good things of life which they have lost and which we enjoy.” 

“ At last,” said Raoul, “ this poor man will have his priest ; 
but, Dieu ! the penitent appears to have a better con- 
science than his confessor. I own I am accustomed to see 
priests with quite a different aspect.” 

Ah ! ” said De Guiche, you do not comprehend. This 
is one of those wandering brothers who go begging about on 
the highways till such time as Heaven may give them a bene- 
fice. They are generally foreigners — Scotch, Irish, or Danes. 
I have often had such men pointed out to me.” 

As ugly ? ” 

No ; but reasonably hideous, nevertheless.” 

What a misfortune for this poor wounded man to die 
under the hands of such a hedge priest ! ” 

Bah ! ” said De Guiche ; absolution does not come from 
him who gives it, but from God. And yet, I tell you what : 
I would rather die impenitent than have anything to do with 
such a confessor. You agree with me, don’t you. Viscount ? 
I saw you caressing the butt of your pistol, as if you were 
tempted to blow his brains out.” 

‘‘ Yes, Count, it is a strange thing, and will surprise you : I 
experienced an indescribable horror on seeing that man. Did 
you ever start up a snake in your path ? ” 

Never,” said De Guiche. 

Well, I have done so in the woods of Blois. I remember 
when I first saw the reptile, looking at me with its leaden 


288 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


eyes, coiled up, shaking its head, and vibrating its tongue, I 
stood pale, and, as it were, fascinated, until the Comte de la 
Fère ” — 

‘‘ Your father ? ” demanded De Guiche. 

No, my guardian,’’ replied Raoul, coloring. 

, Very well.” 

Till the moment when the Comte de la Fère said, ‘ Come, 
draw, Bragelonne ; ’ then only did I run up to the reptile, 
and, just as it raised itself on its tail and hissed ready to 
attack me, I cut it in two. Well, I protest to you that I felt 
exactly the same sensation at the sight of this man when he 
said, ‘ Why do you ask me ? ’ and when he looked at me.” 

And so you blame yourself for not having cut him in two 
like your snake ? ” 

Faith, I do — almost ! ” said Raoul. 

At this moment they came in sight of the inn, and saw, on 
the other side of it, the little procession of the wounded man, 
led by M. d’Arminges. Two of the party were carrying the 
dying man ; the third led the horses. 

The young men plied the spur. 

There is the wounded man,” said De Guiche, on passing 
the Augustinian friar ; have the goodness to make a little 
haste. Sir Monk.” 

Raoul went the width of the road from the friar, and as he 
passed him turned his head from him in disgust. 

Thus the young men preceded, instead of following, the con- 
fessor. They went to meet the wounded man, and announced 
the good news. He raised himself to look in the direction 
indicated ; saw the monk, who was hastening his mule forward ; 
and fell back on the litter, his countenance illumined with joy. 

‘‘ Now,” said the young men, we have done all we can for 
you, and as we are in haste to join the Prince’s army, we 
must continue our journey. You will excuse us, will you not, 
sir? It is reported that a battle will soon take place, and we 
should not wish to arrive too late for it.” 

Go, young gentlemen,” said the wounded man, and may 
you both be blessed for your compassion to me. You have 
indeed, as you say, done all you could for me, and I can only 
say, may God preserve you and those who are dear to you ! ” 

Sir,” said De Guiche to his tutor, we will go forward 
again ; you will rejoin us on the road to Cambrin.” 

The landlord was at his door, and had prepared everything : 


THE MONK. 


289 


bed, bandages, and lint ; and a groom had been sent for a 
surgeon at Lens, which was the nearest town. 

“Very good,” said the landlord, “ everything shall be done 
as yon wish. But will you not stop, sir, to have your own 
wound dressed ? ” he continued, addressing Bragelonne. 

“ Oh ! my wound is nothing,” said the Viscount ; “ it will 
be time enough for me to think of that at the next halt. Only 
have the goodness, if you should see a horseman pass, and if 
he should inquire respecting a young man mounted on a chest- 
nut horse and followed by a lacquey, to tell him that you have 
seen me, but that I have continued my journey, proposing to 
dine at Mazingarbe and to sleep at Cambrin. That horseman 
is my servant.” 

“ Would it not be a better and more certain way if I were 
to ask him his name and to tell him yours ? ” asked the land- 
lord. 

“ There is no harm in the extra precaution,” answered 
Baoul. “ I am the Vicomte de Bragelonne, and his name is 
Grimaud.” 

At this moment the wounded man arrived from one direc- 
tion and the monk from the other. The two young men drew 
away to let the litter pass. The monk got off his mule and 
ordered it to be led into the stable, but not unsaddled. 

“ Sir Monk,” said De Guiche, “ confess this excellent man 
properly, and do not distress yourself about your own ex- 
penses and those of your mule ; everything is paid.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” said the monk, with one of those smiles 
that had made Bragelonne shudder. 

“ Come along. Count,” said Raoul, who appeared unable to 
endure the Augustinian’s presence, — “ come along, I feel quite 
ill here.” 

“ Thank you once more, my handsome young gentlemen,” 
said the wounded man ; “ do not forget me in your prayers.” 

“ Be assured I will not,” said De Guiche, spurring forward to 
rejoin Bragelonne, who was by this time twenty yards away. 

Just then the litter, borne by two lacqueys, entered the 
house. The landlord and his wife, who had hastened for- 
ward, were standing on the steps of the staircase. The unfor- 
tunate wounded man appeared to be suffering extreme pain, and 
yet his only anxiety was whether the monk was following him. 

At sight of this pale and blood-stained man, the woman 
seized her husband’s arm. 


290 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Well, what is the matter ? ” said he ; do you feel ill ? ’’ 

No, but look ! ” said the hostess, pointing to the wounded 
man. 

Indeed,” replied the host, he seems to me to be very ill.” 

“ That is not what I mean,” continued the woman, trem- 
bling. I ask you if you do not recognise him ? ” 

That man ? Just wait” — 

Ah ! I see that you recognise him,” said the woman, for 
you also grow pale.” 

Keally, now,” cried the host ; bad luck to our house ! It 
is the former executioner of Béthune ! ” 

The former executioner of Béthune ! ” murmured the young 
monk, starting back, and betraying by his countenance the re- 
pugnance that his penitent inspired. 

M. d’Arminges, who was standing by the door, perceived his 
hesitation. 

Sir Monk,” said he, although he is, or has been, an exe- 
cutioner, this unfortunate creature is yet a man ; render him, 
therefore, the last service that he requires of you, and your 
work will be but the more meritorious.” 

The monk made no answer, but silently went toward the 
low-studded room, where the two valets had already laid the 
dying man on a bed. 

On seeing the man of God approaching the wounded man’s 
bedside the two lacqueys left the room, and shut the door on 
the monk and his penitent. 

D’Arminges and Olivain were waiting for them ; they re- 
mounted their horses and all four set olf at a trot, following 
the road down which Baoul and his companion had already 
disappeared. 

At the very moment that the tutor and his escort were in 
their turn disappearing from sight another traveller stopped 
at the door of the inn. 

What do you wish for, sir ? ” asked the landlord, still pale 
and tembling from the discovery he had just made. 

The traveller imitated a man drinking, and, getting off his 
horse, pointed to him, and made the motion of a man rubbing 
him. 

Ah ! the devil ! ” said the landlord, ‘‘ it seems that this 
one is dumb. And where do you wish your drink brought f ’’ 
he inquired. 

Here ! ” said the traveller, pointing to a table, 


THE MONK. 


291 


“ I was mistaken/^ said the landlord ; he is not quite 
dumb.” And, bowing, he went for a bottle of wine and some 
biscuits, which he placed before his taciturn guest. 

‘‘ Do yon wish for anything else, sir ? ” said the landlord. 
Yes,” said the traveller. 

And what is it, sir ? ” 

“To know whether you have seen a young gentleman of 
fifteen pass by on a chestnut horse, followed by a lacquey ? ” 
The Vicomte de Bragelonne ? ” asked the landlord. 

“ Exactly so.” 

“ Then you are called M. Grimaud ? ” 

The traveller nodded. 

“Well, then,” replied the landlord, “your young maste. 
was here not a quarter of an hour ago ; he will dine at Mazin- 
garbe and sleep at Cambrin.” 

“ How far from here to Mazingarbe ? ” 

“ Two leagues and a half.” 

“ Thanks.” 

Grimaud, sure of meeting his young master before the end 
of the day, appeared easier, wiped his forehead, and pour* d 
out a glass of wine, which he drank in silence. 

He had just placed the glass on the table, and was going > 
fill it again, when a terrible cry came from the room in wh r-l 
were the monk and the dying man. 

Grimaud started to his feet. 

“ What is that ? ” said he ; “ whence comes that cry ? ” 

“ From the wounded man’s chamber,” replied the landlord. 

“ What wounded man ? ” asked Grimaud. 

“ The former executioner of Béthune, who has just been 
assassinated by Spanish partisans ; they have brought him here, 
and he is now confessing to an Augustine friar ; he seem to be 
in great pain.” 

“ The former executioner of Béthune ! ” murmured Grimaud, 
trying to bring him back to his recollections ; “ a man between 
fifty -five and sixty, tall, powerful, dark, and with hair and 
beard quite black ? ” 

“ That ’s it, except that his beard has grown grey and his 
hair white. Do you know him ? ” asked the landlord. 

“ I saw him once,” answered Grimaud, whose countenance 
grew dark at the picture which this recollection presented to 
his imagination. 

The woman ran up to them in great agitation, 


292 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ Did you hear ? ” she said to her husband. 

Yes/’ replied the landlord, looking anxiously toward the 
door. 

At this moment a cry less powerful than the first, but fol- 
lowed by a long and continuous groan, was heard. 

The three looked at each other with a shudder. 

We must see what is the matter,” said Grimaud. 

It sounds like a man being murdered,” said the landlord. 

Jesus ! ” said his wife, crossing herself. 

If Grimaud spoke but little, it is well known that he was a 
man of action. He rushed toward the door and shook it 
violently ; but it was bolted inside. 

Open ! ” cried the landlord ; open. Sir Monk, — open this 
instant! ” 

No one answered. 

Open or I will break down the door ! ” said Grimaud. 

The same silence continued. 

Grimaud cast his eyes around and discovered a crowbar that 
chanced to be in a corner ; he seized it, and before the land- 
lord could prevent him had broken in the door. 

The room was inundated with blood, which was trickling 
through the mattress. The wounded man was speechless, and 
there was a rattling in his throat. The monk was gone. 

“ The monk ! ” cried the landlord ; where is the monk ? ” 

Grimaud rushed toward an open window that looked into 
the courtyard. 

He must have fled this way,” said he. 

‘‘ Do you think so ? ” asked the frightened landlord. 
^‘Waiter, see whether the monk’s mule is in the stable.” 

The mule is gone ! ” said he to whom the question was 
addressed. 

Grimaud frowned ; the landlord clasped his hands and 
looked around him with distrust ; his wife had not dared enter 
the room, but was standing at the door utterly terrified. 

Grimaud went up to the wounded man, studying his harsh 
and strongly marked features, which brought back to his mind 
such a terrible recollection. 

At last, after a moment’s gloomy and mute contemplation : 

There is no longer a doubt,” said he ; it is really he.” 

Does he still live ? ” asked the landlord. 

Grimaud, without answering, opened his waistcoat to feel 
his heart, while the landlord also drew near ; but they both 


293 


^ THE ABSOLUTION. 

I suddenly started back, the landlord uttering a cry of terror, and 
l Grimaud turning pale. 

^ The blade of a poignard was buried, even to the hilt, in the 
Ijleft side of the executioner’s breast. 

' ‘‘ Run for some assistance ! ” said Grimaud. I will remain 

with him.” 

The landlord left the room, frightened out of his wits ; his 
wife had run away when she heard her husband’s exclamation. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE ABSOLUTION. 

This is what had taken place. We have seen that it was not 
voluntarily, but much against his inclination, that the monk 
I attended the wounded man, who had been recommended to him 
in such a singular manner. Perhaps he would have tried to 
escape, had it seemed possible ; but the threats of the two 
young gentlemen, their attendants, who had stayed after they 
had gone and had doubtless received their instructions, and, 
lastly, to tell the whole truth, reflection itself had compelled 
the monk to retain the character of a confessor, without 
betraying too much ill-will ; and, having once entered the 
room, he approached the wounded man’s bedside. 

With a rapid glance characteristic of those who are on the 
verge of death, and who consequently have not a moment to 
lose, the executioner surveyed him in whom he hoped to find 
a comforter. Making a movement of surprise, he said : 

You are very young, my father.” 

People who wear my robe have no age,” drily responded 
the monk. 

Alas ! speak more gently to me, father,” said the wounded 
man ; I much want a friend in my last moments.” 

“ Are you suffering severely ? ” demanded the monk. 

Yes ; but in soul much more than in body.” 

We will save your soul,” replied the young man ; but are 
you really the executioner of Béthune, as these people said ? ” 

“ That is to say,” replied the wounded man with great 
quickness, doubtless fearing lest the name of executioner 
should deprive him of the last benefits of religion which he 


294 


twenty years after. 


required, — that is to say, I was the executioner, but am soi 
no longer. I gave up the office fifteen years ago. I still at- 
tend the executions officially, but no longer strike the blowj 
myself. Oh, no ! ” ' 

You therefore feel great repugnance to your office, do you; 
not ? ” 

The executioner heaved a deep sigh. j 

So long as I struck in the name of law and justice only,” 
said he, “ my employment, sanctioned as it was by their 
authority, allowed me to sleep in tranquillity ; but since that 
terrible night when I became the instrument of private ven- 
geance, and, with a feeling of hatred, raised the sword against 
one of God’s creatures, — since, that day ” — 

The executioner stopped, shaking his head with an air of 
mute despair. 

Sx^eak,” said the monk, who was sitting at the foot of the 
bed, and who began to feel an interest in a recital that had 
such a singular beginning. 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed the dying man, with all the force of a 
secret sorrow long repressed, and at last unburdened, — ah ! 
how I have endeavoured to stifie my remorse by twenty years 
of good works. I have struggled to conquer that ferocity 
natural to those who shed blood ; on every opportunity I have 
exposed my own life to save the lives of those who were in 
danger ; and I have preserved many lives in exchange for 
those I have taken away. And that is not all : the property 
I have acquired by my profession I have distributed among 
the poor ; I have been assiduous in church going ; and the 
people who avoided me have become accustomed to the sight 
of* me. All have forgiven, some have even loved me ; but I 
believe that God has not pardoned me ; for the recollection of 
this execution never leaves me for one single instant, and me- 
thinks the spectre of that woman rises before me every night.” 

A woman ! So you assassinated a woman ? ” exclaimed 
the monk. 

And you also ! ” cried the executioner — you make use 
of that word which is incessantly ringing in my ear — ^ assassi- 
nated.’ So then I assassinated, and not executed her ! So 
then I am an assassin, and not an instrument of the law ! ” 

And he closed his eyes, uttering a groan. 

The monk no doubt feared that he would die without telling 
him any more ; for he went on eagerly : 


THE ABSOLUTION. 


295 


“ Proceed ; I know nothing about it ; and, when you have 
finished your story, God and I will judge yon.” 

Oh, my father ! ” continued the executioner, without open- 
, ing his eyes, as if he feared, on opening them, to behold some 
I dreadful object, — “ in the dark more particularly, and when 
by chance I am crossing some river, this unconquerable terror 
redoubles. It then seems to me that my hand grows heavy, 

; as if it were weighed down by my sword ; that the water 
becomes blood-colour ; and that all the sounds of nature — 
the rustling of the leaves, the murmur of the wind, the rip- 
■ pling of the stream — combine to form a voice, mournful, 
j despairing, and terrible, that cries out to me : ^ Let the justice 
t of God have its course ! ’ ” 

Delirium ! ” murmured the monk, shaking his head, 
f The executioner opened his eyes, tried to turn himself toward 
' the young man, and seized his arm. 

Delirium ! ” he repeated ; delirium, do you say ? Oh, no ! 

' for it was in the evening, for I cast her body into the river, for 
' the words that my remorse repeats — those very words I in 
: my pride pronounced. After having been the instrument of 
human justice, I belipved that I was become the instrument of 
1 God’s justice.” 

But let me hear how all this happened. Speak,” said the 
: monk. 

i One evening a man came to me and showed me an order. 

; I followed him. Four more gentlemen awaited me. They 
i took me with them, masked. I secretly determined to refuse, 

I should the purpose for which they required me appear to me 
i to be unjust. We proceeded for about five or six leagues, 

I gloomy and silent, almost without exchanging one word. At 
; last, through the window of a small cottage, they showed me a 
I woman leaning on a table, and said, ^ There is the woman 
I whom you must execute.’ ” 

: Horror ! ” said the monk ; and you obeyed them ? ” 

I My father, that woman was a monster. It was said she 

! had poisoned her second husband, and had attempted to assas- 
sinate her brother-in-law, who was one of these men. She had 
! just poisoned a young woman, who was her rival ; and it was 
said that before she left England, she had caused the King’s 
favourite to be stabbed.” 

Buckingham ? ” exclaimed the monk, 

YeS; Buckingham.” 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


29Ô 

So that woman was an Englishwoman ? ” ! 

“ No, she was a Frenchwoman, but she had married in ( 
England.” i 

The monk turned pale, wiped his forehead, arose and bolted | 
the door. The executioner thought that he was going to) 
abandon him, and fell back, groaning, on the bed. Î 

^^No, no — here I am,” said the monk, returning quickly toi 
him. Continue. Who were those men ? ” |. 

“ One was a foreigner, an Englishman, I believe ; the other | 
four were French, and wore the dress of Musketeers.” 

“ Their names ? ” demanded the monk. 

“ I did not know them ; but four of them called the English- 
man ‘ My Lord.’ ” 

And was this woman beautiful ? ” 

‘‘ Young and beautiful ! Oh, yes, very beautiful. I can 
see her now, when, on her knees at my feet, she prayed, with 
her head turned backwards. I have never since been able 
to understand how I could sever a head so beautiful and so 
pale.” 

The monk appeared to be agitated by a strange emotion. 
Every limb trembled ; and it was evident that he wished to 
23ut a question, but dared not. 

At last, after a violent effort to restrain himself : The 
name of this woman ? ” said he. 

I do not know it. As I have told you, she had married 
twice, it appears, — once in France and once in England.” 

And you say she was young ? ” 

Twenty-five years old.” 

“ Beautiful ? ” 

Bavishingly so.” 

Fair ? ” 

Yes.” . 

With long hair reaching to her shoulders — was it not 
so?” 

Yes.” 

With eyes of admirable expression ? ” 

When she chose. Oh, yes, it was so.” 

And a voice of singular sweetness ? ” 

How do you know ? ” 

The executioner raised himself on his elbow and fixed his 
terrified look on the monk, who had become livid. 

And you killed her ! ” said the monk ; “ you became the 


THE ABSOLUTION. 


297 


instrument of those cowards who dared not kill her them- 
selves ! You had no pity for her youth, her 'beauty, her weak- 
ness ! You killed that woman ! ’’ 

“ Alas ! ’’ replied the executioner, I have told you, my 
father, that under such a heavenly exterior that woman con- 
cealed the soul of a demon ; and when I saw her, when I re- 
called all the evil that she had committed against me — 

Against you ? And what could she have done to you ? 
Let' me hear/’ 

“ She had led my brother astray, and destroyed him ; he was 
a priest — she had fled with him from her convent.” 

With your brother ? ” 

Yes, my brother was her first lover. She had been the 
cause of my brother’s death. Oh, father, father ! do not look 
at me in that manner. Oh, am I so very guilty ? Oh, you' will 
not pardon me ? ” 

The monk composed his countenance. 

Yes, yes,” said he, I will pardon you, if you tell me all.” 

Oh ! ” exclaimed the executioner, all ! all I ” 

Then answer me. If she led your brother astray — you 
said that she led him astray ? ” 

^^Yes.” 

If she caused his death — you said that she caused his 
death ? ” 

“ Yes,” repeated the executioner. 

Then you must know her maiden name.” 

Oh, my God ! my God ! ’’ cried the executioner. ^^I feel as 
if I were dying. Absolution, my father ! The absolution ! ” 

Tell me her name ! ” exclaimed the monk, and I will give 
it to you.” 

She was named — my God, have pity on me ! ” murmured 
the executioner, as he fell back on the bed, pale, shuddering, 
and like a man at the point of death. 

Her name ! ” repeated the monk, bending down over him 
as if to tear the name away in case he would not tell it, — 
her name ! Speak, or no absolution ! ” 

The dying man appeared to collect all his strength. 

The monk’s eyes sparkled. 

Anne de Bueil,” murmured the wounded man. 

Anne de Bueil ! ” cried the monk, stretching himself to his 
full height and raising his hands to heaven, — Anne de Bueil ! 
You really said Anne de Bueil,. did you not ? ” 


298 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ Yes, yes, that was the name. And now give me absolution, i 
for I am dying. 

“ I absolve you ? ’’ said the priest, with a laugh which made ! 
the dying man’s hair stand erect upon his head, — absolve 
you ? I am not a priest ! ” 

“ You are not a priest! ” exclaimed the executioner ; and 
who are you, then ? ” 

You wretch. I will soon tell you who I am ! ” 

Ah, my God ! ” 

I am John Francis de Winter ! ” 

I do not know you ! ” cried the executioner. 

Wait, wait — you shall soon know me ! I am John Francis 
de Winter,” he repeated, and that woman ” — 

Well, that woman ?” ^ 

AVas my mother.” 

The executioner then uttered the first cry — that terrible 
cry, which had been heard first. 

“ Oh ! pardon me, pardon me ! ” murmured he — if not in 
the name of God, at least in your own name — if not as a 
priest, at any rate as a son.” 

Pardon you ! ” exclaimed the false priest — pardon you ! 
God may do so, perhaps ; but I — never — never ! ” 

For pity’s sake ! ” said the executioner, stretching forth his 
arms toward him. 

“No pity for him who had no pity. Die impenitent — die 
in despair — die, and be damned ! ” 

And drawing a dagger from beneath his frock and burying 
it in his breast : 

“ There,” said he, “ there is my absolution ! ” 

Then was heard that second cry, feebler than the first, and 
followed by a prolonged groan. 

The executioner, who had raised himself up, fell back on 
the bed. The monk, without withdrawing the dagger from the 
wound, ran to the window, opened it, jumped down upon a 
flower-bed, glided into the stable, took his mule out by a back 
dooi, hastened to the first clump of trees, where he threw off 
his monk’s frock, drew from his valise a complete horseman’s 
dress, clothed himself in it, gained the first posting-house on 
foot, procured a horse, and in that manner rode post in the 
direction of Paris. 


GRIM AUD SPEAKS, 


299 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

GRIMAUD SPEAKS. 

Grimaud had remained alone with the executioner. The 
host was gone for assistance, the woman was praying. 

After the 'interval of a moment or two, the wounded man 
opened his eyes. 

‘‘ Help ! ” murmured he, help ! Oh, my God ! my God ! can 
I find no one to help me to live or die ? ” 

And by a great effort he raised his hand to his breast ; it 
encountered the handle of the dagger. 

Ah ! ” said he, like a man who remembers something. 

And he let his arm fall again. 

Take courage,’^ said Grimaud ; “ some one is gone for 
assistance.” 

Who are you ? ” asked the wounded man, fixing his eyes 
on Grimaud with an unnatural stare. 

“An old acquaintance,” said Grimaud. 

“ You ? ” 

The wounded man tried to recognise the features of the man 
who addressed him. 

“ How and when have we ever met ?” he asked. 

“ One night, twenty year^ ago ; my master found you at 
Béthune, and took you to Armentières.” 

“ I know you well enough now,” said the executioner ; “ you 
are one of the four lacqueys.” 

“ Just so.” 

“ Where have you come from ? ” 

“ I was passing by, and stopped at this inn to bait my horse. 
They were telling me that the executioner of Béthune was 
here wounded, when you cried out twice. AtJhe first cry we 
hastened here, and at the second we broke open the door.” 

“ And the monk,” said the executioner, “ did you see the 
monk ? ” 

“ What monk ? ” 

“ The monk who was shut up with me.” 

“ Xo, he was no longer here ; he must have escaped by the 
window. And did he stab you ? ” 

“ Yes,” said the executioner. 

Grimaud started to leave the room. 


800 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


What are you going to do ? ’’ inquired the wounded man. 

“ He must be pursued.” 

By no means.” 

And why not ? ” 

‘‘ He avenged himself, and he did well. Now I hope that 
God will pardon me, for an expiation has been made.” 

“ Explain yourself,” said Grimaud. 

That woman whom you and your masters made me 
kill” — 

Milady ? ” 

Yes, Milady ; true — that is what you called her” — 

What can the monk have to do with her ? ” 

She was his mother.” 

Grimaud staggered back, and looked at the dying man with 
a dull and almost stupid expression. His mother ! ” he re- 
peated. 

Yes, his mother.” 

“ Then he knows the secret ? ” 

I took him for a monk, and I revealed it to him in confes- 
sion.” 

“ Unhappy man ! ” exclaimed Grimaud, his hair damp with 
perspiration at the mere idea of the consequences, of such a 
revelation, — unhappy man ! You did not mention any name, 
I hope ? ” 

“ I did not mention any name, because I knew none except 
his mother’s maiden name ; he recognised her by that name. 
But he knows that his uncle was present as one of her 
judges.” 

And he fell back exhausted. Grimaud wished to assist him, 
and put hi^ hand toward the handle of the dagger. 

Do not touch me,” said the executioner ; “ if the dagger 
should be drawn out, I should die.” 

Grimaud withheld his hand ; and then, suddenly striking 
his forehead : 

Ah ! but if this man should find out who the others were, 
my master is lost.” 

Hasten, hasten ! ” exclaimed the executioner ; warn him, 
if he still lives — warn his friends ; my death, believe me, will 
not be the termination of this terrible adventure.” 

Where was he going ? ” said Grimaud. 

Toward Paris.” 

Who stopped him here ? ” 


G RIM AUD SPEAKS. 


“Two young gentlemen who were going to the array, and 
one of whom was called the Vicomte de Bragelonne ; for I 
heard his name called by his comrade.” 

“ And that was the young man who brought this monk to 
you ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

Grimaud raised his eyes to heaven. 

“ Then it was the will of God,” said Grimaud. 

“ Without doubt,” replied the wounded man. 

“ That is very disquieting ! ” murmured Grimaud. “ And 
yet that woman deserved her fate. Do you not still think 
so ? ” 

“ When one is dying,” said the executioner, “ the crimes of 
others look very small in comparison with one’s own.” 

And he fell back exhausted, closing his eyes. 

Grimaud was held there, between pity, which prevented his 
leaving this man without aid, and fear, which urged him to 
depart instantaneously to. carry this news to the Comte de la 
Fère, when he heard a noise in the corridor, and saw the land- 
lord coming in with a surgeon, who at last had been found. 

Many persons followed, attracted by curiosity ; the report 
of this strange occurrence was beginning to be spread 
around. 

The surgeon approached the dying man, who appeared to 
have fainted. 

“ It is necessary first to draw the weapon from the breast,” 
said he, shaking his head in a significant manner. 

Grimaud remembered the warning which the wounded man 
had just given, and turned away his eyes. 

The surgeon removed the coat, tore away the shirt, and 
bared his breast. 

The weapon, as we have said, had been thrust in, even up 
to the hilt. The surgeon seized it by the handle ; as he drew 
it out, the wounded man opened his eyes with a frightful 
stare. When the blade was entirely withdrawn from the 
wound, a red froth encircled the executioner’s mouth ; and at 
the first breath that he drew, a stream of blood spouted from 
the orifice of the wound. The dying man fixed his gaze on 
Grimaud with a singular expression, and then followed the 
choking death-rattle. 

Grimaud jdcked up the poignard which lay on the floor, 
dripping with blood and inspiring all present with horror, 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


beckoned to the landlord to follow him, paid his expenses with 
a generosity worthy of his master, and mounted his horse. 

At first he thought of returning straight to Paris ; but then 
he realised the anxiety which his prolonged absence would 
occasion Eaoul. He now knew that Eaoul was only two leagues 
away — that in a quarter of an hour he could reach him — and 
that to go there, explain everything, and return would not 
occupy much more than an hour ; he put his horse to a 
gallop, and in ten minutes dismounted at the Mulet-Couronné, 
the only inn at Mazingarbe. 

At the first words which he exchanged with the innkeeper 
he found that he had at , last overtaken him whom he was 
seeking. 

Eaoul was at table with the Comte de Guiche and his tutor ; 
but the melancholy adventure of the morning had cast a sad- 
ness over the two young men, which the gayety of M. d’Ar- 
minges, more philosophical because more accustomed to such 
spectacles than they were, could not dissipate. 

Suddenly the door opened and Grimaud entered, pale and 
covered with dust, and stained with the blood of the unfortu- 
nate wounded man. 

Grimaud, my excellent Grimaud ! ” cried out Eaoul ^ here 
you are at last ! Excuse me, gentlemen ; he is not a servant, 
but a friend.” 

And rising and hastening up to him : How is the Count ? ” 
he continued ; does he miss me a little ? Have you seen him 
since we separated ? Answer ! But I also have much to tell 
you : many adventures have happened to us in the last three 
days. But what is the matter with you ? How pale you are ! 
— and blood ! — what does this blood mean ? ” 

There really is blood,” said the Count, rising. Are you 
wounded, my friend ? ” 

“ No, sir,” said Grimaud; ^Hhis blood is not mine.” 

But whose is it ? ” said Eaoul. 

It is the blood of the unfortunate man you left at the inn, 
and who died in my arms.” 

“ In your arms ! Why, do you know who he was ? 

ifY es,” said Grimaud. 

He was the former executioner of Béthune.” 

I know that.” 

And you knew him ? ” 

I knew him.” 


GRIM AUD SPEAKS. 


303 


“ And he is dead ? ’’ 

“ Yes,” answered Grim and. 

The two young men looked at each other. 

What would you have, gentlemen ? ” said D’Arminges ; 
^Gt is the common law of nature, and being an executioner 
does not exempt him from it. From the moment that I saw 
his wound I had a bad opinion of it ; and you know that it 
was also his own opinion, since he asked for a monk.” 

At the word monk ” Grimaud turned pale. 

Come, come to table,” said D’Arminges, who like all men 
of that time, and especially of his age, did not permit senti- 
mentality between two courses. 

Yes, sir, you are right,” said Faoul. Come, Grimaud, 
get something for yourself. Order, command ; and after you 
have refreshed yourself we will talk.” 

‘‘No, sir,” answered Grimaud, “ I cannot stop one minute — 

I must go back to Paris instantaneously.” 

“ What ! go back to Paris ! You are mistaken : it is Olivain 
who is to go back to Paris ; you are to stay with me.” 

“ On the contrary, Olivain is to stay with you, and I must go 
back. I came expressly to tell you so.” 

“ But why is this change ? ” 

“ I cannot tell you.” 

“ Explain yourself.” 

“ I cannot explain myself.” 

“ Come, what do you mean by this jesting ? ” 

“ The Viscount knows that I never jest.” , 

“Yes ; but I also know that the Comte de la Fere said tha^ 
you were to remain with me, and that Olivain was to return to 
Paris. I shall follow the Count’s orders.” 

“ Not under the present circumstances, sir.” 

“ And you will disobey me, then ? ” 

“ Yes, sir ; for it is absolutely necessary.” 

“ Then you persist ? ” 

“ Yes, I am going. Farewell, Monsieur le Vicomte.” 

And Grimaud bowed and turned to leave the room. _Raou^ 
furious and at the same time under great anxietj^ ran after 
him and seized him by the arm. ^ 

“ Grimaud,” exclaimed Eaoul, “ remain. I commihd you ! ^ 
“ Then,” said Grimaud, “ you wish me to leave the Count to 
certain death.” 

Grimaud bowed and was leaving the room. » 


804 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Grimaud, my friend/’ said the Viscount, you will not go 
in this manner — you will not leave me in such anxiety. 
Griniaud, speak, speak, in the name of Heaven ! ” 

And Raoul, staggering back, fell into a chair. 

‘‘ I can only tell you one thing, sir, — for the secret which 
you ask for is not mine, — you met a monk, did you not ? ” 

Yes.” 

The two young men looked at each other with affright. 

“ You took him to the wounded man ? ” 

Yes.” 

So you had time to observe him ? ” 

« Yes.” 

And perhaps you would recognise him if you met him 
again ? ” 

Oh, yes, I can swear to that.” 

And I also,” said De Guiche. 

“ Well, then, should you ever meet him again,” said Gri- 
maud, wherever it may be, — on the high road, in the street, 
in a church, wherever you or he may be, — step on him and 
crush him, without mercy, without commiseration, as you 
would a viper, a snake, or an asp, — crush him, and do not 
leave him until he is dead ! The lives of five men will be in 
danger so long as he lives ! ” 

And v/ithout adding another word, Grimaud took advantage 
of the astonishment and terror into which he had thrown those 
^who had heard him , to rush out of the room, 
ft “ Well, Count,” said Raoul, turning towards De Guiche, did 
R not tell you that monk had the effect on me of a snake ? ” 

Two minutes later galloping of a horse was heard. Raoul 
ran to the window ; it was Grimaud, returning toward Paris. 
He waved his hat to the Viscount, and quickly disappeared 
round an angle of the road. 

As he rode Grimaud reflected on two things : the first was 
that, at the rate he was going, this horse would not take him 
ten leagues ; the second, that he had no money. 

But Grimaud’s imagination was the more fertile that he 
talked so little. 

At the first post station that he came to he sold his horse, 
and with lEhe money that it produced he took post 


THE EVE OF BATTLE. 


305 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 


THE EVE OF BATTLE. 

Raoul was aroused from these melancholy reflections by the 
landlord, who rushed into the room, crying : 

“ The Spaniards ! the Spaniards ! ’’ 

This cry was sufficient to drive every previous thought from 
the mind. The young men made some inquiries, and found 
that the enemy was really advancing by Houdain and Béthune. 

While M. dWrminges was giving his orders to bring the 
horses round, the two young men ran up to the highest win- 
dows in the house, which commanded a view of all the sur- 
rounding country, and actually beheld a numerous force of 
infantry and cavalry, just making their appearance from the 
direction of Marsin and of Lens. This time it was not a 
small straggling troop of partisans, but a complete army. 

So they had no other alternative than to follow M. d’Ar- 
minges’s wi^ aidvice and beat a retreat. 

The young men ran down again. M. d’Arminges was already 
on horseback ; Olivain was holding their horses ; and the Count’s 
lacqueys were carefully guarding the Spanish prisoner, mounted 
on a nag that had just been purchased for that purpose. Eor 
additional security, his hands were bound. 

The little troop took the road to Cam brin, where it was^ 
thought they would find the Prince ; but he had left there the! 
evening before, and had retired to La Passée, some false intel- 
ligence having induced him to believe that the enemy would 
pass the Lys at Estaire. 

In fact, the Prince being deceived by this information, had 
evacuated Béthune and concentrated all his forces between 
Vieille-Chapelle and La Venthie ; and he himself, having been 
reconnoitring the whole line with the Marshal de Grammont, 
had just returned and sat down at table, questioning the 
officers around him as to the information he had orderg^^^ax*,h 
of them to collect. But no one had positive news ; tl^ enemy’s 1 
army had disappeared forty-eight hours previously, a$d see med ^ 
to have vanished. 

Now, an enemy’s army is never so near, and consequently so 
threatening, as when it has completely disappeared. So the 
Prince, contrary to his usual habit, was sullen and anxious. 


306 


TWEJSTY YEARS AFTER. 


[ 


when an officer on duty entered the room and informed Mar- 
shal de Grammont that some one wanted to speak to him. 

The Due de Grammont by a look obtained the Prince’s per- 
mission, and left the room. 

The Prince followed him with his eyes, and kept looking at 
the door, no one daring to speak for fear of interrupting his 
thoughts. 

Suddenly a dull sound was heard. The Prince rose quickly, 
stretching forth his hand in the direction whence the sound 
proceeded. This sound was very familiar to him : it was the 
noise of a cannon. 

Every one had risen with him. 

At this moment the door opened. 

Monseigneur,” said Marshal de Grammont, looking radiant, 
will your Highness permit my son, the Comte de Guiche, 
and his travelling companion, the Vicomte de Bragelonne, to 
enter and give you some information concerning the enemy we 
are seeking, and whom they have found ? ” 

“ AVhat ! ” said the Prince eagerly, will I permit it ? 
Not only do I permit, but I greatly desire it. Let them come 


The Marshal brought forward the two young men, who found t 
themselves in the Prince’s presence. ' 

Speak, gentlemen,” said the Prince, bowing to them ; we j 
will afterwards pay each other the usual compliments. What j 
is of the most pressing consequence to us all at present is to | 
know where the enemy is and what he is doing.” j 

It naturally devolved on the Comte de Guiche to speak ; not i 
only was he the elder of the two, but he was also introduced to 
the Prince by his father. Besides, he had long known the 
Prince, while Baoul now saw him for the first time. 5 

He therefore recounted to the Prince everything they had ^ 
seen at the inn at Mazingarbe. I 

In the meantime Raoul was studying this young general, 
already so famous by his battles of Rocroy, Fribourg, and ! 
g^ordlingen. i 

Loiffliiiide Bourbon, Prince de Condé, who, since the death of j 
Henry de Bourbon, his father, was called, for the sake of 
bre^dty^nd according to the custom of the time, Monsieur i 
le Prince,” was a young man of not more than twenty-six or 
twenty-seven, with an eagle eye — “ agVocchi grifani^^^ as 
Dante says; a hooked nose; and long hair flowing in curls 


THE EVE OF BATTLE. 


307 


down his back ; of medium height, but well-built ; having all 
I the qualities of a great warrior ; that is to say, a quick sight, a 
P rai)id decision, and undaunted courage — all which did not 
I prevent his being, at the same time, a man of elegance and 
'I wit; so much so that besides the revolution he made in war, 

\ by the improvements which he introduced into it, he had also 
; caused a revolution at Paris among the young courtiers, of 
wliom he was the natural leader, and who were termed petits- 
maîtres in contradistinction to the fashionable men of the 
old Court, of whom Bassompierre, Bellegarde, and the Due 
d’Angouleme had been the models. 

From the first words of the Comte de Guiche, and from the 
direction whence the sound of the cannon was heard, the Prince 
! thoroughly understood everything. The enemy must have 
passed the Lys at Saint-Venant, and was marching on Lens, 
with the intention, doubtless, of taking possession of that town 
and cutting the French army off from France. The cannon 
which they heard from time to time above all other were the 
large guns of the town, which were replying to the artillery of 
the Spaniards and Flemish. 

But of what strength was this body of men ? Was it a corps 
intended for a diversion ? or was it the entire army ? ^ 

This was the Prince’s last question, and it was impossible 
for De Guiche to answer. 

Now, as this was the most important question of all, it was 
that also to which the Prince required an exact, precise, posi- ^ 
tive reply. j 

Eaoul, therefore, conquered that natural feeling of timidity 
which, in spite of all his efforts, he felt pervading him in the 
Prince’s presence, and approaching him, he said : 

Will monseigneur allow me to hazard some words on this sub- 
ject ? They may perhaps relieve him from his embarrassment.” 

The Prince turned and seemed to take in his whole figure 
at one glance, and then smiled on seeing a boy of scarcely 
fifteen. 

Oh, yes, certainly ; speak, sir,” said he, softening his curt, 
sharp manner of speaking, as if he were now adc ^e^ 'Etg 
woman. «* 16 . — 

Monseigneur might question the Spanish prisejerj^ai^jj^ 
Baoul, colouring. 

“ Have you taken a Spanish prisoner ? ” exclaimed the 
Prince. 


308 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Yes, monseigneur.” 

Ah, and that ’s true,” said De Guiche ; I had forgotten 
it.” 

That ’s natural enough,” said Raoul, smiling, as you took 
him yourself, Count.” 

The old Marshal turned toward the Viscount, grateful for 
the praise thus bestowed on his son ; while the Prince cried out : 

The young man is right ; bring up the prisoner.” 

In the meantime the Prince took De Guiche aside and 
questioned him how this prisoner had been made, at the same 
time inquiring who this young man was. 

Sir,” said the Prince, turning to Raoul, I hear that you 
bring a letter from my sister, Madame de Longueville ; but I 
find that you prefer recommending yourself by giving me good 
advice.” 

Monseigneur,” said Raoul, colouring, “ I did not wish to 
interrupt your Highness in such an important conversation as 
that you were engaged in with the Count; but here is the 
letter.” 

^‘Very well,” said the Prince, ^^give it me by and by. Here 
is the prisoner ; let us attend to more pressing business.” 

In fact, they were bringing in the prisoner. He was one of 
those condottieri of whom some remained even at that period, 
selling their blood to any one who would purchase it, and 
grown old in brigandage and plunder. Since he had been 
taken he had not uttered one single word, so that those who 
had captured him could not themselves tell to what nation he 
belonged. 

The Prince looked at him with an air of unspeakable distrust. 

Of what country are you ?” he demanded. 

The prisoner answered in some strange language. 

^‘Ah, ha! it seems that he is a Spaniard. Do you speak 
Spanish, Grammont ? ” 

Faith, monseigneur, very little.” 

And I not at all,” said the Prince, laughing. Gentle- 
men,” continued he, turning to those around him, “ is there any 
QiLa ainong you who speaks Spanish, and will serve me as an 
interpret^ ? ” 

.<‘1 w ill,! monseigneur,” answëred Raoul. 

“^^'JÇh’^^ou speak Spanish ? ” 

Sufficiently well, I believe, to perform your Highness’s 
commands on this occasion.” 


THE EVE OF BATTLE. 


809 


During this time the prisoner had remained perfectly indif- 
ferent, and as if he had not in the slighest degree understood 
what was going on. 

“ Monseigneur has demanded of what country you are/’ said 
the youth, in the purest Castilian. 

Ich bin ein Deutsche!^, ’’’ replied the prisoner. 

What the devil does he say ? ” demanded the Prince ; and 
what new gibberish is this ? ” 

He says that he is a German, monseigneur,” replied Raoul ; 
and yet I doubt it, for his accent is bad and his pronuncia- 
tion defective.” 

You speak German also ? ” asked the Prince. 

Yes, monseigneur,” answered Raoul. 

Sufficiently to question him in that language ? ” 

^ Wes, monseigneur.” 

Question him, then.” 

Raoul commenced his questions, but the result bore him out 
in his conjectures. The prisoner did not understand, or pre- 
tended not to understand, what Raoul said, and Raoul could 
not comprehend the answers he gave, mixed as they were with 
Flemish and Alsatian. Nevertheless, amid all the prisoner’s 
efforts to elude a regular examination, Raoul had detected the 
natural accent of the man. 

Non siete Spagnuolo,^^ said he, non siete Tedesco^ siete 
Italiano.’^ 

The prisoner started and bit his lips. / 

Ah ! this I understand perfectly,” said the Prince, “ and 
since he is an Italian, I will continue the examination myself. 
Thank you. Viscount,” continued the Prince, laughing, from 
henceforth I appoint you my interpreter.” 

But the prisoner was no more disposed to answer in Italian 
than in the other languages. What he wanted was to evade all 
questions whatever. Therefore he knew nothing — the num- » 
ber of the enemy, the name of the commander, or the object of 
their march. 

Very well,” said the Prince, who well understood the 
cause of this ignorance ; this man has been taken pillaging 
and murdering ; he might have purchased his life by his com- 
munications, but he will not speak ; take him away, then, and 
shoot him.” 

The prisoner turned pale. The two soldiers who had brought 
him in took him by the arms and led him toward the door, 


310 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


while the Prince, turning to Marshal Graminont, appeared to 
have already forgotten the order he had given. 

Having reached the threshold, the prisoner stopped ; the 
soldiers, who considered only their orders, wished to force him 
along. 

One moment,’’ said the prisoner, in French ; I am willing 
to speak, monseigneur.” 

“ Aha ! ” said the Prince, laughing, I knew well enough 
we should come to that at last. I have a wonderful secret for 
unlocking tongues. Young men, take advantage of this lesson 
when you come to have a command.” 

But,” said the prisoner, it is on condition that your 
Highness will swear that my life shall be safe.” 

On the word of a gentleman,” said the Prince. 

Then put your questions, monseigneur.” 

Where did the army pass the Lys ? ” 

Between Saint-Venant and Aire.” 

‘^By whom is it commanded ^ 

“ By the Count de Fuonsaldagnâ, by General Beck, and by 
the Archduke in person.” 

‘‘Of how many men is it composed?” 

“ Of eighteen thousand men and thirty-six field pieces.” 

“ And its march ? ” 

“ On Lens.” 

“ There, do you see, gentlemen ? ” said the Prince, turning 
\ with an air of triumph toward the Marshal de Grammont and 
the other officers. 

“ Yes, monseigneur,” replied the Marshal ; “ you have 
divined all that the human mind could divine.” 

“ Eecall Le Plessis, Bellièvre, Villequier, and H’Erlac,” 
said the Prince ; “ recall all the troops that are on this side 
the Lys, and let them hold themselves in readineôs to march 
to-night. To-morrow, in all probability, we shall attack the 
enemy.” 

“ But, monseigneur,” said the Marshal de Grammont, “ con- 
sider that, in uniting all our disposable forces, we shall not be 
able to muster more than thirteen thousand men.” 

“ Marshal,” replied the Prince, with that wonderful look 
characteristic of him, “ all great battles are gained with 
sm£l armies.” 

Then turning toward the prisoner, he said : 

“ Take, this man and guard him carefully. His life depends 


THE EVE OF BATTLE. 


311 


on his communication : should it be true, he shall be liberated ; 
if false, have him shot.” 

The prisoner was led off. 

“ Comte de Guiche,” said the Prince, it is a long time since 
you have seen your father. Eemain with him. , Monsieur,” 
continued he, addressing Eaoul, if you are not too tired, 
follow me.” 

To the end of the world, monseigneur ! ” exclaimed Eaoul, 
feeling an inconceivable enthusiasm for this young general, 
who appeared so worthy of his reputation. 

The Prince smiled. He despised flatterers, but greatly 
esteemed enthusiasts. 

‘‘AVell, sir,” said he, you are a good adviser, as we have 
just discovered. To-morrow we shall see how you behave 
under fire.” 

“ And what am I to do, monseigneur ? ” inquired the 
Marshal. 

Eemain Ao receive the troops'. I will either come for them 
myself, or will send a messenger for you to bring them to me. 
Twenty of the best mounted guards will be quite sufficient for 
my escort.” 

It is little enough,” said the Marshal. 

It is quite sufficient,” said the Prince. Have you a good 
horse. Monsieur de Bragelonne ? ” 

Mine was killed yesterday, monseigneur, and I am using 
my lacquey’s provisionally.” 

Go and choose one that will suit you in my stables. And 
have no false modesty, but take that which you think the best 
horse. You will need it, perhaps, this evening, certainly 
to-morrow.” 

Eaoul did not wait to be told twice ; he knew that with 
superiors, especially when those superiors are princes, the 
height of politeness consists in prompt and unquestioning 
obedience. He went down to the stables, selected a dun 
Andalusian horse, saddled it and bridled it himself ; for Athos 
had charged him, in moments of danger, to trust these impor- 
tant cares to no one; and he rejoined the Prince, who was just 
mounting his horse. 

How, sir,” said he to Eaoul, will you give me the letter 
which you bring ? ” 

Eaoul presented the letter to the Prince. 

Keep near me, monsieur,” said he. 


312 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


The Prince clapped spurs to his horse, hooked his bridle to 
the pommel of his saddle as he was accustomed to do when 
he wished to have his hands free, opened Madame de Longue- 
ville’s letter, and went off at a gallop toward Lens, accom- 
panied by Kaoul and followed by his small escort ; while the 
messengers who were to recall the troops set off at full speed 
in opposite directions. 

The Prince read as he went. 

Sir,’’ said he an instant after, they speak most favour- 
ably of you. I have only one thing to tell you, which is that, 
from the little that I have heard and seen, I think still more 
highly of you than they have spoken.” 

Paoul bowed. 

In the meantime, at every step that brought them nearer to 
Lens, the firing of cannon grew louder. The Prince’s eyes 
were directed, with the intenseness of a bird of prey, on the 
point whence this sound came. It might have been imagined 
that he had the power of piercing through the screen of trees 
which were before him, and which bounded the horizon. 

From time to time his nostrils dilated as if he was anxious 
to inhale the smell of powder, and he breathed hard like his 
horse. 

At last the sound of the cannon was so near that it was 
evident they were not more than a league from the battle- 
field. In fact, at a turn of the road they could see the little 
village of Aunay. 

The peasants were in great confusion ; the report of the 
cruelty of the Spaniards had spread abroad and excited 
general consternation; the women had already fled in the 
direction of Vitry; some few men only remained. 

At sight of the Prince they ran up ; one of them recognised 
him. 

Ah, monseigneur,” said he, “ are you come to drive away 
all those beggarly Spaniards and those brigands of Lorraine ? ” 

Yes,” said the Prince, ^‘if you will act as my guide.” 

Most willingly, monseigneur. Where does your Highness 
wish me to conduct you ? ” 

To some elevated spot, whence I may see Lens and its 
neighbourhood. ” 

In that case, I am your man.” 

Gan I trust you ? Are you a good Frenchman ? ” 

I am an old soldier of Rocroy, monseigneur.” 


THE EVE OF BATTLE. 


313 


Here,” said the Prince, giving him his purse, this is for 
Rocroy. l^ow, do you wish to have a horse, or do you prefer 
going on foot ? ” 

On foot, monseigneur, on foot. I have always served in 
the infantry. Besides, I expect to lead your Highness through 
[)aths where you will be obliged to dismount.” 

“ Come then,” said the Prince, let us not lose any time.” 

The peasant set off, running before the Prince’s horse. 
Then, about a hundred yards from the village, he took a 
narrow path hidden in the bottom of a pretty valley ; for about 
half a league they proceeded thus, under the cover of the 
trees, the artillery sounding so near that at each report they 
might have expected to hear the whistling of the balls. At 
last they came to a path that branched off from the direct 
road to climb up the side of the mountain. The peasant took 
this path, requesting the Prince to follow him. He dis- 
mounted, and ordering one of his aides-de-camp and Raoul to 
do the same, and the others to remain there and keep a good 
lookout, he began to climb the path. 

In ten minutes they reached the ruins of an old chateau ; 
these ruins crowned the summit of a hill, from which they 
could command a view of the surrounding country. Barely a 
league away they could perceive Lens, at bay ; and before 
Lens, all the enemy’s army. 

At a single glance the Prince embraced the whole extent of 
country spread before his eyes, from Lens even to Vimy. In 
an instant the whole plan of the battle, which on the next day 
was to save France a second time from invasion, displayed 
itself before his mind. He took a pencil, tore a leaf from his 
tablets, and wrote : 

dear Marshal: 

“ In one hour Lens will he in the enemy^s hands. Come 
and rejoin me ; bring the whole army with you. I shall be at 
Vendin, to place the men in position. To-morrow we shall re- 
take Lens and whip the enemy 

Then returning to Raoul : 

‘‘ Go, sir,” said he, at full speed, and put this letter into M. 
de Grammont’s hands.” 

Raoul bowed, took the paper, ran down the mountain, threw 
himself on his horse, and set off full gallop. 


314 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


•In a quarter of an hour he had reached the Marshal. 

A part of the troops were already arrived, and the others 
were expected every moment. The Marshal put himself at 
the head of all the disposable infantry and cavalry, and took 
the road to Vendin, leaving the Due de Châtillon to bring up 
the rest. 

All the artillery was ready to depart, and at once marched 
forward. 

It was seven o’clock in the evening when the Marshal 
reached the rendezvous ; the Prince was waiting for him. As 
he had foreseen, Lens had fallen almost immediately after 
Kaoul had left him. The cessation of the cannonade an- 
nounced that event. 

They waited for the night ; and as the darkness increased, 
the troops successively arrived. Orders had been issued that 
no drum should be beat and no trumpet sound. 

At nine o’clock the night had set in, but a last lingering ray | 
still illumined the plain. They then marched in silence, the 
Prince leading the column. 

Having got beyond Aunay, the army could perceive Lens ; 
two or three houses were in flames, and a dull sound, that 
indicated the agony of a town taken by assault, reached the 
ears of the soldiers. 

The Prince assigned to each his post. The Marshal de 
Gramm ont was to hold the extreme left, and rest upon Méri- 
conrt ; the Due de Châtillon led the centre ; the Prince him- 
self commanded the right wing, which rested on Aunay. 

The order of battle on the following day was to be the same 
as the positions now taken ; so that every one, on awaking, 
would And himself on the ground upon which he was to 
manœuvre. 

The movement was executed in the most profound silence, 
and with the most exact precision. At ten o’clock every one 
was in position ; at half-past ten the Prince visited all the 
posts and gave the order for the next day. 

Three things were most particularly recommended to thCg, 
commanders, who were to see them scrupulously followed b^’ 7 
the soldiers : the flrst, that the different corps should take.,! 
care so to march that the cavalry and infantry should be in 
the same line, and that each should keep its proper distance. 

The second, not to charge at double quick. 

The third, to let the enemy Are first. 


THE EVE OF BATTLE. 


315 


The Prince gave the Comte de Griiiche to his father, and 
kept Bragelonne himself ; but the two young men asked per- 
mission to pass the night together, which was granted. 

A tent was pitched for them near the Marshaks. Although 
the day had been fatiguing, neither of them felt any inclina- 
tion to sleep. 

Besides, the eve of battle is a serious and imposing thing, 
even to old soldiers, and much more so to young men who are 
about to view this terrible spectacle for the first time. 

On the eve of battle, you think of a thousand things that 
have hitherto been forgotten. On the eve of battle, common 
acquaintances become friends, friends become brothers. 

It is needless to say that if there be any more tender senti- 
ment at the bottom of the heart, that sentiment then naturally 
reaches its highest degree of tensity. 

We may easily believe that some such feeling was experi- 
enced by each of the young men ; for in a short time they 
both sat down at the end of the tent and began writing on 
their knees. The letters were long, the four pages were one 
after another filled with closely written and delicate manu- 
script. Occasionally they looked up and smiled. They under- 
stood each other, without a word being said. These two 
exquisite and delicate organizations were so constructed as 
to sympathise without speaking. 

When the letters were finished they enclosed them in 
double envelopes, that no one might read the address without 
tearing open the first envelope ; then they exchanged the 
letters. 

If any misfortune should befall me ” — said Bragelonne. 

If I should be killed ’’ — said De Guiche. 

Do not distress yourself about that,” they both said. 

Then, having kissed each other like brothers, they wrapped 
themselves in their cloaks, and slept the fresh and graceful 
sleep of birds, flowers, and children. 


316 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

AN OLDEN-TIMES DINNER. 

The second interview of the four Musketeers was not formal 
and threatening, like the first. Athos, with his usual superior 
good sense, had concluded that the table would be the speediest 
and completest centre of reunion ; and at the very moment 
when his friends, awed by his superiority and sobriety, dared 
not to suggest one of those good old-time dinners, at the 
“ Pomme-du-Pin ’’ or the “ Parpaillot,’’ he first proposed that 
they should meet round some well-served table, and that each 
should speak and act with perfect frankness — a frankness that 
had kept up an understanding among them — that fellowship 
from which they had acquired the title of The Inseparables.” 

The proposition was agreeable to all, but more especially to 
D’Artagnan, who eagerly craved a renewal of the good taste 
and gayety that characterised the society in which he had 
formerly mingled. For a very long time his fine and lively 
talent had received but meagre satisfaction — vile food,” as 
he himself termed it. Porthos, on the eve of becoming a baron, 
was enchanted at the opportunity of studying, in Athos and 
Aramis, the manners of people of quality. Aramis' wished to 
gain, through D’Artagnan and Porthos, some information about 
the Palais Royal ; and* also to keep, against all emergencies, 
friends so devoted, who had formerly supported him in his 
quarrels with such prompt and invincible swords. 

Athos was the only one who had nothing to expect or to re- 
ceive from the others, and who was influenced only by a senti- 
ment of true nobleness of soul, and of pure friendship. 

It was therefore agreed that each should give his real address, 
and that, at the summons of one of the associates, the meeting 
should take place at the sign of the Hermitage, a famous 
tavern in the Rue de la Monnaie. The first meeting was fixed 
for the following Wednesday, at exactly eight o’clock in the 
evening. 

The four friends arrived on that day, punctually at the ap- 
pointed hour, each from his own affairs. Porthos had been 
trying a new horse ; D’Artagnan came down from his guard at 
the Louvre ; Aramis had been to visit one of his fair penitents 
in the neighbourhood ; aud Athos, who had taken up his abode 


AN OLDEN-TIMES DINNER. 


31T 


in the Eue Guënégaiid, was close by. So they were surprised 
on all meeting at the door of the Hermitage : Athos having 
come from the Eue de Pont Neuf, Porthos from the Eue du 
Eoule, D’Artagnan from the Eue des Fossés-Saint-Germain- 
FAuxerrois, and Aramis from the Eue de Béthisy. 

The first words exchanged between the four friends, precisely 
on account of -the formal manner which each used in their 
salutations, were rather forced, and the repast itself began with 
a little stiffness. It was apparent that D’Artagnan compelled 
himself to laugh, Athos to drink, Aramis to relate an anecdote, 
and Porthos to be silent. Athos perceived this embarrassment, 
and, to apply a prompt remedy, ordered four bottles of cham- 
pagne. 

At this order, given with his usual calmness, D’Artagnan’s 
brow was seen to clear and Porthos’s face to shine. 

Aramis was astonished : he knew not only that Athos no 
longer drank, but that he even experienced a certain repugnance 
to wine. 

This astonishment was redoubled when he saw him pour out 
a bumper and drink it with his old-time gusto. D’Artagnan 
filled his glass and immediately emptied it. Porthos and 
Aramis clinked theirs. The four bottles were instantly 
emptied. It seemed as if they wished to drive away any 
former suspicions. 

In on'e moment this excellent specific had dissipated even 
the smallest cloud remaining at the bottom of their hearts. 
The four friends began to talk louder, without waiting till one 
had finished before the other began, and each to assume at 
table his own favourite position. Shortly — an unheard-of 
thing ! — Aramis loosened two clasps of his doublet ; and, when 
Porthos saw it, he unfastened all his. 

Their battles, their long journeys, the wounds given and 
received, formed the first staple of their conversation. Then 
they passed to the silent and secret struggle sustained against 
him whom they now called the great Cardinal.” 

Faith,” said Aramis, we have praised the dead quite 
enough : let us abuse the living a little. I should like to abuse 
Mazarin a little ; is it allowable ? ” 

Certainly,” said D’Artagnan, bursting into laughter, — 
certainly ; let us have your tale, and I will applaud it if it 
be a good one.” 

A great prince,” said Aramis, with whom Mazarin sought 


318 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


alliance, was requested by him to send a list of the conditions 
on which he would do him the honour of coming to an agree- 
ment with him. The prince, who had some repugnance to 
treating with such a vulgar fellow, made the list very unwill- 
ingly, and sent it to him. In this list there were three con- 
ditions, which displeased Mazarin ; he offered the prince ten 
thousand crowns to yield the points at issue.’’ 

Ah ! ah ! ah ! ” exclaimed the three friends, that was 
not dear, and he had no fear of being taken at his word. What 
did the prince do ? ” 

The prince immediately sent Mazarin fifty thousand livres, 
begging him never to write to him again ; and offering him 
twenty thousand more if he would engage never to speak to 
him again.” 

“ And what did Mazarin do ? ” 

Was he angry ? ” inquired Athos. 

“ Had he the messenger well beaten ? ” asked Porthos. 

He pocketed the money ? ” suggested D’Artagnan. 

“ You have guessed it, D’Artagnan,” answered Aramis. 

And they all laughed so uproariously that the landlord came 
up to see whether they wanted anything. 

He thought that they were fighting. 

At last the mirth calmed down. 

May one have a rap at M. de Beaufort ? ” demanded D’Ar- 
tagnan. I much wish it.” 

Proceed,” said Aramis, who well understood that acute 
and gallant Gascon mind which never receded one step on any 
ground. 

“ And you, Athos ? ” said D’Artagnan. 

“ I swear, on the word of a gentleman, that we will laugh 
if you are comical,” replied Athos. 

“ Then I will begin,” said D’Artagnan. “ M. de Beaufort, 
talking one day with one of M. le Prince’s friends, told him 
that during the first quarrels between Mazarin and the Parlia^ 
ment, he had once had a dispute with M. de Chavigny, and 
that, seeing that he was attached to the new Cardinal, although 
he had been so closely connected with the old one, he had 
cuffed him well. 

This friend, who knew that M. de Beaufort was quick with 
his hand, was nevertheless much astonished at the circum- 
stance, and hastened to tell it to the Prince. The thing spread 
about, and every one turned his back on Chavigny. He, nat- 


AN OLDEN-TIMES DINNER. 


319 


'rally enough, sought for an explanation of this general cold- 
ness. There was some hesitation in telling him, but at last 
'ome one ventured to inform him that every one was surprised 
at his allowing himself to be cuffed by M. de Beaufort, 
although he was a prince. 

‘ And who said that the Prince cuffed me ? ’ demanded 
( 'havigny. 

“‘The Prince himself,’ replied his friend. 

“ The story was traced to its source, and the very person to 
whom the Prince had made the assertion was found, and he, 
being adjured on his honour to speak the truth, repeated and 
confirmed it. 

“ Chavigny, in utter despair at such a calumny, which he 
could not at all understand, declared to his friends that he 
would rather die than bear such an insult. So he sent two 
friends to the Prince to demand if it was true that he had said 
that he had cuffed M. de Chavigny. 

“ ‘ I said it, and I repeat it,’ replied the Prince, ‘ for it is 
true.’ 

“ ‘ Monseigneur,’ said one of Chavigny’s seconds, ‘ will 
allow me to tell your Highness that blows, given to a gentle- 
man, degrade him who gives them quite as much as him who 
receives them. King Louis XIII. was unwilling to have 
gentlemen for his valets de chambre because it deprived him 
of the right to beat them.’ 

“ ‘ But I should like to know,’ demanded M. de Beaufort in 
astonishment, ‘ who has received any blows, and who speaks 
of beating ? ’ 

“ ‘ Why, you, monseigneur, who claim that you have 
beaten ’ — 

“ ‘ Whom ? ’ 

“ ‘ M. de Chavigny ! ’ 

“ ‘ I ? ’ 

“ ‘ Did you not cuff \j)ourme\ M. de Chavigny ; at least, is 
not that the word you used, monseigneur ? ’ 

“ ‘ Yes.’ 

“ ‘ Well, then, deny it.’ 

“ ‘ Ah ! why should I ? ’ said the Prince. ‘ I cuffed him so 
well — for these are my very words,’ added M. de Beaufort, 
with all that majesty with which you are so familiar : ‘ My 
dear Chavigny, you are very wrong to assist such a rascal as 
that Mazarin.’ 


320 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


^ Ah, monseigneur/ cried the second gentleman, ^ I under- 
stand — you meant to say reproved.’ 

‘ Eeprove or cuff,^ what matters which ? ’ said the Prince ; 
^ is it not the same thing ? Really, your word-makers are per- 
fect pedants.’ ” 

They laughed much at this philological mistake, for M. de 
Beaufort’s blunders of this kind were beginning to be pro- 
verbial, and it was agreed that since party spirit was ban- 
ished forever from these friendly meetings, D’Artagnan and 
Porthos might rally the princes, on condition that Athos and 
Aramis might cuff (gourmer) Mazarin. 

Faith,” said D’Artagnan to his two friends, you are right 
to wish him ill, for, on his part, I protest to you that Mazarin 
does not feel friendly toward you.” 

“ What ! Really ? ” said Athos. If I thought that the 
rascal knew my name I would be unbaptised, for fear any one 
should thilik that I knew him.” 

He does not know you by your name, but by your actions. 
He knows that there are two gentlemen who more especially 
contributed to M. de Beaufort’s escape, and he is making an 
active search for them, I can assure you.” 

Through whom ?” 

Through me.” 

How th^ougii you ? ” 

Yes, he sent for me again this morning to ask whether I 
had got any news.” 

About those two gentlemen ? ” 

Yes.” 

And what did you say ? ” 

That I had not any as yet, but was going to dine with two 
persons who might give me some.” 

And you actually told him that ? ” said Porthos, with his 
broad grin spread over all his large face. Bravo ! And does 
not this frighten you, Athos ? ” 

Ho,” said Athos, I do not dread Mazarin’s investigation.” 

You will please,” said Aramis, tell me what you do dread.” 

Nothing ; at least at present.” 

And in the past ? ” asked Porthos. 

Ah, in the past — that is another thing,” replied Athos, 
with a sigh, — in the past and in the future.” 

’ The play of words turns on the distinction between gourmer, to cuff, and aour- 
mander, to reprove. ^ 


AN OLDEN-TIMES DINNER. 


321 


“ Have you any fear for your young Raoul ? ” inquired 
A lamis. 

Good,’’ said D’Artagnan ; one is never killed in the first 
action.” 

Nor in the second,” said Aramis. 

“ Nor in the third,” said Porthos. Besides, when one is 
killed, one returns to life again. Witness ourselves.” 

“No,” said Athos, “ Raoul does not disquiet me, for he will 
behave, I hope, like a gentleman ; and if he is killed — Well, 
it will be bravely. But wait ; should that misfortune happen, 
well, then ” — 

Athos passed his hand over his pale brow. 

“ Well, then ? ” said Aramis. 

“Well, then I should regard it as an expiation.”- 

“Ah ! ” said D’Artagnan, “ I know what you mean.” 

“And so do I,” said Aramis. “But we must not think 
about that, Athos ; the past is past.” 

“ I do not understand,” said Porthos. 

“ The affair at Armentières,” said D’Artagnan to him in a 
low voice. 

“ The affair at Armentières ? ” he repeated. 

“ Milady ” — 

“ Oh, yes ! ” said Porthos ; “ I had forgotten it.” 

Athos looked at him with his penetrating eye. 

“ And had you really forgotten it, Porthos ? ” he asked. 

“ Faith, yes,” replied Porthos ; “ it was a long time ago.” 

“ So the thing does not weigh on your conscience ? ” 

“ Faith, no,” said Porthos. 

“ And on yours, Aramis ? ” 

“ Why, I sometimes think of it,” said Aramis, “ as of one 
of those cases of conscience that admit of discussion.” 

“ And you, D’Artagnan ? ” 

“ Well, I confess that when my mind even dwells on that 
terrible time I can think only of poor Madame de Bo>-' 
clay-cold body. Yes, yes,” he murmured, “ I b ' 
felt regret for the victim, never any remorse 

Athos shook his head with an air of d'- 

“ Consider,” said Aramis, “ that if yoc. 
and its participation in human affairs, ti. 
ished by the will of God. We were the i 
is all.” 

“ But the free will, Aramis ? ” 


322 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


And what does the judge do ? He has his free will also, 
and condemns fearlessly. What does the executioner do ? 
He is the master of his own arm, and yet he strikes without 
remorse.’’ 

The executioner ” — murmured Athos. 

And they saw that the word brought up a recollection. 

I know that it is awful,” said d’Artagnan ; ‘‘ but when I 
think that we killed Englishmen, men of La Rochelle, Span- 
iards, nay, even Frenchmen, who never did us any greater 
harm than taking aim at us and missing us, — who had never 
any greater fault than that of crossing swords with us and 
not being able to parry quick enough, — I excuse myself for 
my share of that woman’s murder, upon my honour I do.” 

Now that you have brought it to my recollection, Athos,” 
said Porthos, I can see the scene as if I were now there. 
Milady was there, where you now sit [Athos turned pale]. 
I was where D’Artagnan -sits. I had by my side a sword that 
would cut like a Damascus blade — you must remember it, 
Aramis, for you called it Balizarde. Well, 1 swear to you 
three if the executioner of Béthune — was it Béthune ? Yes, 
faith, it was Béthune — well, if he had not been there I would 
have cut off the head of that wicked wretch without any con- 
sideration — ay, even after consideration. She was a wicked 
woman.” 

^^And then,” said Aramis, in the tone of careless philos- 
ophy he had assumed since he had entered the Church, and 
in which there was much more of atheism than of trust in 
God, what is the use of thinking of all this ? What is 
done és done. We shall confess this deed at the last hour; 

sd God will know, better than we can, if it is a crime, a 
a meritorious action. Do I repent it ? you ask. 
^*<(> not. On my honour and by the cross, I repent 
she was a woman.” 

^^st comfort in all this is,” said D’Artagnan, 
happened, no trace remains.” 

. - ^ Athos. 

enough,” said D’Artagnan, “ and 
him. But who knows what has 
Alt being dead, the brood is also 
Aat De Winter, his uncle, will have 
Aent ? De Winter will have con- 
/condemned the mother.” 


AN OLDEN-TIMES DINNER. 


323 


Then,’’ said Athos, misfortune must befall De Winter, 
for the child had done no harm.” 

The child is dead, or the devil take me,” said Porthos. 
‘‘There is so much fog in that horrible country — at least, 
so D’Artagnan declares.” 

At this very moment, when Porthos’s reasoning was per- 
haps just about to restore some gayety to their faces, which 
had grown more or less serious, the sound of steps was heard 
on the staircase, and some one knocked at the door. 

“ Come in,” said Athos. 

“ Gentlemen,” said the landlord, “ there is a servant in great 
haste, who wishes to speak with one of you.” 

“ Which of us ? ” they all inquired. 

“ To him who is called the Comte de la Père.” 

“ I am he,” said Athos. “ And what is the name of this 
servant ? ” 

“ Grimaud.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Athos, turning pale ; “ returned so soon ? What 
can have happened to Bragelonne ? ” 

“ Let him come in,” said D’Artagnan ; . “ let him come in.” 

Grimaud had already mounted the stairs, and was wait- 
ing on the landing-place. He rushed into the room and dis- 
missed the landlord by a sign. 

The landlord shut the door, and the four friends remained 
in eager expectation. Grimaud’s agitation, his pallor, the 
perspiration that bathed his face, the dust that soiled his 
dress, all made it evident that he was the messenger of some 
important and terrible communication. 

“Gentlemen,” said he, “that woman had a son; tb- son 
has become a man. The tigress had a cub; the tiger j.s loose, 
it is coming to you ; take care ! ” 

Athos looked at his friends with a melancholy smile ; Por- 
thos felt at his side for his sword, but it was hanging on the 
wall ; Aramis seized his knife ; D’Artagnan rose up. 

“ What do you mean, Grimaud ? ” he ried. 

“ That Milady’s son has left England — that he is in France 
— that he is coming to Paris, if he is not here already.” 

“ The devil ! ” cried Porthos ; “ are you sure ? ” 

“ Sure,” answered Grimaud. 

This declaration produced a long silence. Grimaud was so 
breathless, so exhausted by fatigue, that he fell into a chair. 

Athos filled a glass of champagne and carried it to him. 


324 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Well, after all/’ said D’Artagnan, even if he should be 
alive, even if he sht)uld come to Paris, we have faced many 
others — let him come ! ” 

Yes,” said Porthos, looking affectionately at his sword 
hanging against the wall, we wait for him ; let him come.” 

Besides, he is only a boy,” said Aramis. 

Grimaud rose up. 

“ A boy ! Do you know what this boy has done ? Dis- 
guised as a monk, he has discovered the whole story by con- 
fessing the executioner of Béthune ; and after having received 
his confession — after having learnt everything from him — 
for absolution he planted this dagger in his breast. There it 
is, still red and moist, for it is not more than thirty hours 
since it was drawn from the wound.” 

And Grimaud threw down on the table the dagger that 
the' monk had left in the wounded man’s side. 

D’Artagnan, Porthos, and Aramis arose, and, with a spon- 
taneous movement, secured their swords. 

Athos alone remained in his seat, calm and thoughtful. 

And you say that he was dressed like a monk, Grimaud ? ” 

Yes, like a monk of St. Augustin.” 

What sort of a man is he ? ” 

About my height, so the landlord informed me, thin and 
pale, with clear blue eyes and light hair.” 

“ And — he did not see Eaoul, did he ? ” inquired Athos. 

On the contrary, they met, and the Viscount himself con- 
ducted him to the wounded man’s bed.” 

Athos arose without saying a word, and in his turn went 
and took down his sword from the wall. 

Ah, gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, endeavouring to laugh, 

do you know that we look very much like a parcel of young 
girls ? We four men, who have bearded armies without wink- 
ing, we are actually trembling before a young boy ! ” 

Yes,” replied Athos, but this boy comes in the name of 
God.” 

And they hastily left the tavern. 


THE LETTER OF CHARLES THE FIRST. 325 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE LETTER OF CHARLES THE FIRST. 

The reader must now cross the Seine with us, and accom- 
pany us to the gate of the Carmelite convent in the Rue Saint 
Jacques. 

It is eleven o’chock in the morning, and the holy sisters 
have just said a mass for the success of Charles the First’s 
arms. On leaving the church, a woman and a young girl, 
clothed in black, the one like a widow, the other like an 
orphan, have returned to their cell. 

The woman is kneeling on a footstool of painted wood, and 
at some paces from her stands the young girl, leaning against 
a chair and weeping. 

The woman must have been beautiful, but it is evident 
that her tears have prematurely aged her. The young 
girl is charming, and her tears add to her charms. The 
woman appears to be about forty years old ; the young girl is 
fourteen. 

‘‘ My God ! ” the kneeling suppliant was saying, ‘‘ preserve 
my husband, preserve my son, and take my life, so sad and so 
miserable ! ” 

My God ! ” said the young girl, preserve my mother ! ” 
Your mother can do nothing more for you in this world, 
Henrietta,” said the afflicted woman ; your mother has no 
longer either throne, or husband, or son, or money, or friends ; 
your mother, my poor girl, is forsaken by the whole world.” 

And the woman, throwing herself into her daughter’s arms, 
gave way to a paroxysm of sobs. 

‘‘ Take courage, my dear mother,” said the young girl. 

^^Ah! kings are unfortunate .this year,” said the mother, 
resting her head on her daughter’s shoulder, and no one 
thinks of us in this country, for every one is thinking of his 
own affairs. While your brother was with us, he sustained 
me ; but he is gone, and can now send no news of himself, 
either to his father or to me. I have pledged my last jewels, 
I have sold all my clothes and yours to pay the wages of his 
servants, who refused to accompany him until I made that 
sacrifice. Now we are compelled to live at the expense of 
these holy sisters ; we are God’s poor pensioners ! ” 


326 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


But why do you not apply to the Queen, your sister ? 
demanded the young girl. 

“ Alas ! ” said the afflicted woman, ‘‘ the Queen, my sister, is 
no longer queen, my child : another reigns in her name. Some 
day you will be able to understand all this.’’ 

“ Well, then, to the King, your nephew. Will you let me 
speak to him ? You know that he loves me, mother.” 

Alas ! the King, my nephew, is not yet king ; and he him- 
self — you know very well that Laporte has told us so a hun- 
dred times — he himself is in want of everything.” 

“ Then let us call upon God ! ” said the young girl. 

And she knelt down beside her mother. 

These 'two women who were thus praying side by side were 
the daughter and granddaughter of Henry IV., the wife and 
daughter of Charles I. 

They were finishing their prayer, when a nun knocked 
gently at the door of the cell. 

Come in, my sister,” said the elder of the two women, 
wiping her tears and rising from her knees. 

The nun respectfully opened the door. 

I hope that your Majesty will pardon this interruption of 
your meditations,” said she, “ but a foreign gentleman is in the 
parlour who has just arrived from England, and who requests 
the honour of presenting a letter to your Majesty.” 

“Oh ! a letter from the King perhaps ; some news from 
your father, doubtless ; do you hear, Henrietta ? ” 

“ Yes, madame, I hear and I hope.” 

“ And who is this gentleman ? ” 

“ A gentleman from forty-five to fifty years of age.” 

“ His name ? Did he give his name ? ” 

“ Lord de Winter.” 

“ Lord de Winter ! ” exclaimed the Queen ; “ my husband’s 
friend! Oh, let him come in, let him come in.” 

And the Queen ran to meet the messenger, whose hand she 
eagerly seized. 

Lord de Winter, on entering the cell, knelt and presented 
the letter, enclosed in a gold case. 

“ Ah, my Lord,” said the Queen, “you bring us three things 
which we have not seen for a long time — gold, a devoted 
friend, and a letter from our husband and King.” 

De Winter again bowed ; he was so deeply affected that he 
could not speak. 


THE LETTER OF CHARLES THE FIRST. 327 


Lord/’ said the Queen, pointing to the letter, you 
may imagine that I am most anxious to know the ( < iitents of 
this paper.” 

“ I will retire, madame,” said De AYinter. 

“No, remain,” said the Queen; “we will read it in your 
presence. Do you not understand that I have a thousand 
questions to put to you ? ” 

De Winter retired a step or two and remained silent. 

The mother and daughter had retired into an embrasure of 
the window, and were reading most eagerly, the daughter lean- 
ing on her mother’s arm, the following letter : 

“ Aladame and dear Wife : 

“ At length we have reached the end. All the resources which 
God left me are concentrated in the camp at Nasehy, whence L 
write to you in haste. Here I await the army of my rebellious 
subjects, and I am going to contend once more against them. If 
I conquer, I shall continue the struggle ; if I am conquered, I 
am completely ruined. I wish, under the latter circumstances 
(alas ! when one is where we are everything must be provided 
for) — I wish to attempt to gain the coast of France. But 
can they, or would they, receive an unfortunate King, who will 
carry such a deleterious example into a country already torn by 
civil dissensions ? Your prudence and affection will be my best 
guides. The bearer of this letter will tell you, madame, what I 
dare not trust to the chance of accident ; he will tell you what 
1 expect from you. I also charge him with my blessing to my 
children, and every sentiment of affection for yourself, moAame 
and dear wifel’ 

The letter was signed, instead of “ Charles, King,''’ “ Charles, 
as yet King.” 

This melancholy perusal, the effect of which De Winter 
watched on the Queen’s countenance, nevertheless brought back 
to her eyes a beam of hope. 

“ Let him be no longer King ! ” she exclaimed ; “ let him 
be vanquished, banished, and proscribed — only let him live ! 

- ! the throne is in these times too perilous a post for me 
to . ish him to retain it. But tell me, my Lord,” continued 
ili<‘ Queen, “ conceal nothing from me — where is the King ? 
Is his situation as desperate as he imagines ? ” 

‘‘ Alas ! madame, more desperate than he himself imagines. 

Majesty h 3 such a good heart that he cannot conceive 


328 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


hatred ; so sincere that he does not suspect treachery. Eng- 
land is seized by a spirit of madness which I much fear will 
be extinguished only in blood.’’ 

“ But Lord Montrose,” replied the Queen : ‘‘ I heard of his 
great and rapid successes — of battles gained at Inverlochy, 
Auldearn, Alford, and Kilsyth ; I heard it reported that he 
was marching on the frontier to join the King.” 

Yes, madame, but at the frontier he met Leslie. He had 
wearied victory by his superhuman enterprises, and victory 
deserted him. Montrose, beaten at Philipshaugh, was forced 
to disband the remnants of his army, and fly, disguised as a 
valet. He is at Bergen, in Norway.” 

“ And may God preserve him ! ” said the Queen ; “ it is at 
least a consolation to know that those who have so often risked 
their lives for us are in safety. And now, my Lord, that I see the . 
King’s position as it is, that is to say, his desperate position, 
tell me what you have to say to me from my royal husband.” 

‘‘Well then, madame, the King wishes you to endeavour to 
sound the feelings of the King and Queen toward him.” 

“ Alas ! you know them,” replied the Queen. “ The King 
is as yet only a child ; and the Queen is a woman, and a weak 
one too. M. Mazarin is everything.” 

“ Why, would he play in France the character that Crom- 
well is playing in England ? ” 

“ Oh, no ! He is a cunning and crafty Italian, who perhaps 
dreams of crime, but will never have the courage to execute 
it ; and, exactly contrary to Cromwell, who manages the two 
Houses of Parliament, Mazarin has only the Queen’s support 
in his struggle with the Parliament.” 

“ That is another reason why he should protect a King per- 
secuted by Parliament.” 

The Queen shook her head bitterly. 

“ If I am to form my opinion of him from his conduct to 
myself, my Lord,” said she, “ the Cardinal will do nothing, 
or, perhaps, will even oppose us. My presence and that of 
my daughter, in France, are already a burden to him ; much 
more, consequently, would be the King’s. My Lord,” added 
the Queen, with a melancholy smile, “ it is sad and almost 
disgraceful to confess, but we have passed the winter at the 
Louvre without money, without linen, almost without bread, 
and often not leaving our beds for want of fuel ! ” 

“ Horrible ! ” exclaimed De Winter ; “ the daughter of Henry 


THE LETTER OF CHARLES THE FIRST. 829 


IV. — the wife of Charles I. ! Why did you not apply, 
madame, to the first of us who happened to come ? ” 

“ See the hospitality afforded a Queen, by the minister 
whom a King now wishes to ask for hospitality ! ” 

“ But I heard a report of a marriage between the Prince of 
Wales and Mademoiselle d’Orléans,” said Be Winter. 

‘‘ Yes, I had hopes of it for a short time. The children 
loved each other ; but the Queen, who at first promoted the 
match, changed her opinion ; and M. le duc d’Orléans, who at 
first encouraged the connection, forbade his daughter to think 
any more of the union. Ah ! my Lord,” continued the Queen, 
without endeavouring to wipe away her tears, “ it is far better 
to contend, as the King has done, and to die, as he perhaps is 
about to do, than to live the mendicant I am ! 

Courage, madame,” said De Winter — courage ! Do not 
despair. It is for the interest of the French Crown, so shaken 
at this moment, to oppose rebellion among a people its nearest 
neighbour. Mazarin is a statesman, and he will understand this 
necessity.” 

But are you sure,” said the Queen, with an air of doubt, 
that you have not been anticipated ? ” 

By whom ? ” demanded De Winter. 

^^By the Joyces, Prides, and Cromwells.” 

By a tailor, a carman, and a brewer ! Ah ! I hope, madame, 
that the Cardinal would never enter into an alliance with such 
men as those.” 

What is he himself ? ” demanded the Queen. 

“ But for the King’s honour — for the Queen’s ” — 

^^Conie, let us hope that he will do something for that 
honour,” said Queen Henrietta; '^your friendship is so elo- 
quent, my Lord, that you encourage me. Give me your hand, 
then, and let us go to the minister.” 

Madame,” said De Winter, bowing, I am overwhelmed 
by such an honour.” 

But, after all, should he refuse,” said the Queen, stopping 
short ; and should the King lose the battle ? ” 

His Majesty would then take refuge in Holland, where I 
have heard that the Prince of Wales now is.” 

And could his Majesty reckon on many such followers as 
yourself in his flight ? ” 

Alas, no, madame ! ” replied De Winter ; but the case is 
provided for, and I am come to seek allies in France.” 


330 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


Allies ! ” ejaculated the Queen, shaking her head. 

“ Madame,’’ replied De Winter, let me but find some old 
friends that I had formerly, and I answer for everything.” 

“ Come, then,” said the Queen, with that painful doubt 
which always assails persons who have been long unfortunate, 
— “ come, then, and may God assist you ! ” 

The Queen entered her carriage, and De Winter on horse- 
back, followed by two servants, rode by its side. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Cromwell’s letter. 

At the very moment when Queen Henrietta was leaving the 
Carmelite convent to proceed to the Palais Royal, a cavalier 
dismounted from his horse at the gate of this regal abode, and 
announced to the Guards that he had tidings of importance to 
communicate to Cardinal Mazarin. 

Although the Cardinal was often timid, yet, as he still 
oftener had need of advice and information, he was quite ac- 
cessible. At the first door the real difficulty was not found, 
even the second was easily passed ; but at the third, besides 
the Guards and ushers, the faithful Bernouin kept watch — 
a Cerberus whom no word could soften, no branch, were it 
even of gold, could charm. 

So any one who asked or demanded an audience was obliged 
at the third door to submit to a formal examination. 

The cavalier, having left his horse fastened to the bars of 
the gate in the courtyard, mounted the great staircase, and 
addressing the Guards in the first room : M. le Cardinal 
Mazarin ? ” said he. 

Go forward,” replied the Guards, without elevating their 
noses from their cards or dice, and delighted, moreover, to 
show that it was not their business to act as lacqueys. 

The cavalier entered the second room. This was guarded 
by Musketeers and ushers. He repeated his demand. 

Have you a letter ? ” asked an usher, going up to the 
applicant. 

I have one, but not from Cardinal Mazarin.” 


CROMWELL'S LETTER. 


831 


Go in and ask for M. Bernouin/’ said the usher. And he 
opened the door of the third chambei*. 

Either by chance, or because it Avas his usual post, Bernouin 
Avas standing behind this door, and had overheard everything. 

‘‘ I am the man, sir, that you seek,” said he ; ‘‘ from Avhom 
is the letter that you bring for his Eminence ? ” 

“ From General Oliver CromAvell,” replied the stranger : 

will you announce me to his Eminence, and inform m 
whether he will receive me or not ? ” 

And he remained standing, in the gloomy and severe manner 
that was peculiar to the Puritans. 

Bernouin, after having cast a scrutinising glance over the 
young man, entered the Cardinal’s cabinet and delivered the 
envoy’s message. 

“ A man who is the bearer of a letter from Oliver Crom- 
well ? ” said Mazarin ; and what kind of man ? ” 

“ A typical Englishman, monsignor, with hair a lightish red, 
more red than light ; eye a greyish blue, more grey than blue ; 
and, to sum up all, pride and formality.” 

Let him give you his letter.” 

‘‘ Monsignor asks the letter,” said Bernouin, returning from 
the cabinet to the antechamber. 

“ Monsignor is not to see the letter without the bearer,” 
l eplied the young man ; but, to convince you that I am really 
. the bearer of a letter, see, there it is.” 

Bernouin looked at the seal, and seeing that the letter came 
\ from General Oliver Cromwell, he turned to go back to 
Mazarin. 

Add,” said the young man, that I am not a mere mes- 
; senger, but an envoy extraordinary.” 

Bernouin reentered the cabinet, and returning in a few 
. minutes, he said, as he held the door open : 

Enter, sir.” 

Mazarin had required all these comings and goings to 
recover himself from the emotion which the announcement of 
this letter had caused ; but acute as his intellect was, he in 
vain sought for the motive Avhich had induced Cromwell to 
enter into communication with him. 

The young man appeared at the door of the cabinet, holding 
his hat in one hand and the letter in the other. 

Mazarin rose up. 

You have credentials for me, sir,” said he. 


332 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


‘‘ Here they are, monsignor,” replied the young man. 

Mazarin took the letter, unsealed it, and read : 

M. Mordaunt, one of my secretaries, will deliver this letter 
of introduction to his Eminence Cardinal Mazarin, at Paris. 
He is the hearer of a second confidential letter for his Emi- 
nence.'^’ 

‘‘ Very well, Monsieur Mordaunt,” said Mazarin ; give me 
the second letter, and sit down.” 

The young man drew a second letter from his pocket, pre- 
sented it to the Cardinal, and sat down! 

In the meantime the Cardinal, still busied with his reflec- 
tions, had taken the letter, and, without unsealing it, was 
turning it over and over in his hand ; but, to put the messen- 
ger on the wrong scent, he began to question him in his usual 
manner, being convinced from experience that few men could 
conceal anything from him, when he questioned them and 
looked at them at the same time. 

You are very young. Monsieur Mordaunt,” said he, for 
the rough oflice of ambassador, where the oldest diplomats 
often fail.” 

Monsignor, I am twenty-three years old ; but your Emi- 
nence is mistaken in calling me young. I am older than you 
are, although I have not your wisdom.” 

How is that, sir ? ” said Mazarin ; I do not comprehend 
you.” 

I say, monsignor, that years of suffering count double ; and 
that I have had twenty years of suffering.” 

“ Ah, yes, I understand,” said Mazarin : lack of fortune — 
you are poor, are you not ? ” Then he added to himself. 
These English revolutionists are all beggars and clowns.” 

“ Monsignor, I ought to have, some day, a fortune of six 
millions ; but it has been taken from me.” 

“ You are not, therefore, a man of low rank,” said Mazarin, 
in astonishment. 

If I bore my title, I should be a lord ; if I went by my I 
real name, you would hear one of the most illustrious that ! 
England can boast of.” j 

Why, what is your name ? ” 

My name is Mordaunt,” said the young man, bowing. | 

Mazarin saw that Cromwell’s envoy wished to preserve his | 
incognito. j 


CROMWELL'S LETTER. 


333 


He was silent for a moment, but during that moment he had 
looked at him more earnestly than before. 

The young man was perfectly immovable. 

‘‘The devil take these Puritans!” said Mazarin, in a low 
voice ; “ they are cut out of marble.” 

Then he added aloud : 

“ But you have relatives ? ” 

“ Yes, I have one, monsignor.” 

“ Then he assists you ? ” 

“ I went three times to implore his protection, and three 
times he made his valets drive me away.” 

“ Oh, moil Dieu ! my dear Monsieur Mordaunt,” said Maz- 
arin, hoping to deceive the imung man by his feigned commis- 
eration. “ Mon Dieu ! your story much interests me. You are, 
therefore, ignorant of your birth ? ” 

“ I have learnt it only very recently.” 

“ And up to the moment when you found it out ” — 

“ I considered mj^’self a foundling.” 

“ Then you never saw your mother ? ” 

“ Yes, monsignor ; when I was a child, she came three times 
to my nurse’s house. I remember the last time that she 
came, as if it had been yesterday.” 

“ You have a good memory,” said Mazarin. 

“ Oh, yes, monsignor,” said the young man, in such a singu- 
lar tone that the Cardinal felt himself shudder. 

“ And who brought you up ? ” inquired Mazarin. 

“ A French nurse, who turned me olf when I was five years 
old, because no one paid her any longer ; but she confided to 
me the name of that relative, of whom my mother had often 
spoken to her. ” 

“ What then became of you ? ” 

“ As I was crying and begging on the highway, a minister at 
Kingston took me in ; educated me in the Oalvinistic religion ; 
gave me all the knowledge he himself possessed, and assisted 
me in my search for my family.” 

“ And this search ? ” 

“ Was fruitless ; chance did everything for me.” 

“You discovered what had become of youi mother?” 

“I learnt that she had been murdered by this relative, 
assisted by four of his friends. But I had already learnt that 
I had been degraded from my rank, and robbed of all my 
property by Charles I.” 


334 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


All ! now I understand why you serve M. Cromwell. You 
hate the King ! ” 

‘‘ Yes, monsignor, I hate him ! ’’ replied the young man. 

Mazarin observed with astonishment the diabolical expres- 
sion with which the young man uttered these words. As 
ordinary faces colour with blood, so his face was tinted with 
bile, and became livid. 

Your story is terrible. Monsieur Mordaunt, and touches 
me deeply ; but, happily for you, you serve a powerful master. 
He, no doubt, will aid you in your search. Men of our stamp 
know so many things.” 

“ Monsignor, to a well-bred dog it is only necessary to point 
out one end of a track, and he will be sure to arrive at the 
other.” 

“ But would you wish me to speak to this relative whom you 
have mentioned ? ” asked Mazarin, who was glad of the 
chance to secure a friend near Cromwell. 

“ Thanks, monsignor ; I shall speak to him myself.” 

But did you not say that he had treated you ill ? ” 

He will treat me better the next time I see him.” 

“ Have you some means of softening him ? ” 

I have the means of making him fear me.” 

Mazarin looked at the young man ; but perceiving the fire 
that flashed from his eyes, he lowered his head ; and feeling 
some embarrassment in continuing the conversation, he opened 
Cromwell’s, letter. 

The young man’s eyes gradually became dull and glassy as 
usual, and he fell into profound thought. After having read 
the flrst lines, Mazarin ventured to look if Mordaunt was not 
watching his countenance ; and observing his indifference : 

“ Have your work done,” said he, almost imperceptibly 
shrugging his shoulders, ‘‘ by men who are at the same time 
doing their own ! Let us see what this letter contains.” 

We give it literally : 

To his Eminence Monsignor the Cardinal Mazarini : 

am very desii'ous, monsignor ^ of knowing your views touching 
thepresent state of affairs in England. The two kingdoms are so 
close to each other that they must unavoidably occupy themselves 
with each other’’ s situation. The English are almost unanimous 
in their opposition to the tyranny of Charles and his followers. 
Placed at the head of this movement by the public trust, I can 
estimate its true nature and consequences more correctly than 


CROMWELL'S LETTER. 


335 


any other person. At this very time I am engaged in tvar, and 
1 am about to fight a deeisive battle with King Charles. I shall 
gain it ; for the hopes of the nation and the spirit of the Lord 
are ivith me. This battle gained., the King has no further re- 
sources in England or in Scotland ; and should he not be taken 
or hilled^ he will endeavour to 2>(^ss over to France, to recruit 
soldiers, and to obtain a re'ènforcement of arms and mo7iey. 
E' ranee has already received Queen Henrietta, and, unintention- 
ally no doubt, has cherished a brand of inextinguishable civil 
war in my country. But Queen Henrietta is a daughter of 
E' ranee, and the hospitality of France was her due. As to King 
Charles, the question is quite different : in receiving and aiding 
him, E'rance would condemn the actions of the peopjle of Eng- 
land, and so essentially injure England herself, and more p>ar- 
ticularly the progress of that Government ivhich she hopes to 
establish, that such conduct would be equivalent to an open dec- 
laration of hostilities.” 

At this moment Mazarin, much annoyed at the turn the 
letter was taking, again left off reading and cast a cautious 
glance at the young man. 

"He was still thinking. 

Mazarin continued : 

It is therefore urgent that I should know immediately, 
monsignor, what are the views of France. The interests of that 
kingdom and those of England, although apparently tending in 
an opposite direction, are really more united than any one might 
think. England has need of internal tranquillity to complete 
the expulsion of her King ; France has need of the same tran- 
quillity to establish the throne of her young monarch. You, as 
well as ourselves, require that internal peace which we, thanks 
to the energy of our Government, have almost acquired. 

Your disputes with the Parliament — your violent dissen- 
sions loith the princes, who one day fight for and the next day 
against you — the popular obstinacy, directed by the coadjutor, 
the president Blancmesnil, and the councillor Broussel — in 
fine, all that disorder which ptervades the different ranks in the 
State must make you look forward with doubt to the effect of a 
foreign war. L'or then England, in the highest state of excite- 
ment from her revolutionary principles, would join herself with 
Spain, who already desires the alliance. So I thought, monsi- 
gnor, — knowing your wisdom and the personal interest you have 
in the present circumstances, — I thought that you would prefer 


336 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


concentrating your strength in the internal affairs of France, 
and leaving England to attend to its new Government. This 
neutrality simply consists in excluding King Charles from the 
French territory, and in not assisting, by arms, money, or troops, 
that King who is entirely a foreigner to your country. 

Aly letter is therefore entirely confidential ; and it is on that 
account that I send it by one whom lean so strictly trust. From 
a feeling which your Eminence can estimate, it will precede the 
measures which I shall take after the events. Oliver Cromwell 
has thought that he would do much better to reason with a mind 
so intelligent as Mazarini^s than with a Queen who, although she 
is certainly to be admired for her firmness, must be far too much 
infi.uenced by the prejudices of birth and divine right. 

Adieu, monsignor. If 1 receive no answer in a fortnight, 1 
shall consider my letter as null and void. 

‘‘ Oliver Cromwell.'^ 

Monsieur Mordaunt/’ said the Cardinal, raising his voice 
so as to rouse the thinker, “ my answer to this letter will be the 
more satisfactory to General Cromwell the more convinced I 
am that it is unknown that I have written it. Therefore go, 
and wait for it at Boulogne-sur-Mer ; and promise me that you 
will leave Paris to-morrow morning.’’ 

‘‘ I promise you that I will, monsignor,” replied Mordaunt ; 
but how many days will your Eminence make me wait for 
the answer ? ” 

If you have not received it in ten days, you may leave the 
country.” 

Mordaunt bowed. 

“ That is not all, sir,” continued Mazarin ; your own per- 
sonal adventures have deeply touched me. Besides, M. Crom- 
well’s letter gives you importance in my eyes as an ambassador. 
Tell me, then, what can I do for you ? ” 

Mordaunt reflected an instant, and after evident hesitation 
he was just opening his mouth to speak, when Bernouin entered 
hastily, leant down to the Cardinal’s ear, and said in a low 
voice : 

“ Monsignor, Queen Henrietta, accompanied by an English 
gentleman, is this moment entering the Palais Eoyal.” 

Mazarin gave a start in his chair, which did not escape the 
young man’s notice, and doubtless checked the confidence he 
was about to repose. 

Sir,” said the Cardinal, “ you understood me, did you not ? 


MAZARIN AND QUEEN HENRIETTA. 


387 


I appoint Boulogne, because I imagine that any French town is 
the same to you. Should you prefer another, only name it ; 
but you can easily conceive that, surrounded as I am by influ- 
ences which I can only escape by the exercise of great discre- 
tion, I must be anxious that your presence in Paris should not 
be known.” 

“I will depart, sir,” said Mordaunt, starting toward, the door 
by which he had entered. 

Not that way, sir, I beseech you,” said the Cardinal, with 
great eagerness. Will you pass through the gallery, from 
which you can gain the hall ? I am anxious that you should 
not be seen leaving me ; our interview ought to be secret.” 

Mordaunt followed Bernouin, who led him into an adjoining 
room and delivered him over to an usher, indicating the door 
by which he was to go out. 

Then he hastily returned to his master to introduce Queen 
Henrietta, who was already passing through the glass gallery. 


CHAPTEE XL. 

MAZARIXr AND QUEEN HENRIETTA. 

The Cardinal arose and went hastily to receive the Queen 
of England. He met her in the middle of the gallery that led 
to his cabinet. 

He paid the more respect to this Queen, unattended and 
unadorned, because he felt that he had something wherewith 
to reproach himself on the score of his avarice and want of 
feeling. 

But suppliants learn to school their countenance to assume 
every kind of expression; and the daughter of Henry IV. 
smiled on meeting him whom she despised and hated. 

Ah ! ” said Mazarin to himself, what a sweet face ! Can 
she be come to borrow money from me ? ” 

And he cast an anxious glance at the lock of his strong box ; 
he even turned inward the bezel of the magnificent diamond, 
the brilliancy of which attracted the eye to his hand, which 
was white and handsome. Unfortunately this ring had not 
the property of that of Gyges, which rendered its master invis- 
ible when he did what Mazarin had just done. 


338 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Now, Mazarin would have much liked to be invisible at that 
moment, for he guessed that Henrietta was come to ask some- 
thing from him ; for when a Queen whom he had treated in 
this manner appeared with a smile on her lips, instead of a 
frown on her brow, it was clear that she came as a suppliant. 

“ Monsieur le Cardinal,” said the august visitor; I had at 
first thought of speaking to my sister, the Queen, on the 
business that brings me here, but I reflected that politics are 
always better discussed by men.” 

Madame,” said Mazarin, believe me that your Majesty 
overwhelms me by this flattering distinction.” 

^^e is mighty gracious,” thought the Queen; has he 
guessed the cause of my visit ? ” 

They had reached the Cardinal’s cabinet. He seated the 
Queen ; and when she was comfortably settled in his easy-chair : 

Give your orders,” said he, to the most respectful of your 
servants.” 

“ Alas, sir ! ” replied the Queen, I have lost the habit of 
giving orders, and taken up that of making requests. I come to 
entreat you, too happy should my entreaty be complied with.” 

“ I am all attention, madame,” said Mazarin. 

Monsieur le Cardinal, the subject on which I wish to 
speak is the war that my husband is now waging against his 
rebellious people. You are, perhaps, ignorant that they are 
fighting in England,” said the Queen, with a melancholy smile, 
“ aud that in a short time there will be a more decisive battle 
than has yet been fought ? ” 

I am completely ignorant of it,” said the Cardinal, accom- 
panying these words with a slight movement of the shoulders. 
“ Alas ! our own wars engage all the time and talent of such 
a poor, incapable, and weak minister as I am.” 

‘‘Well, Monsieur le Cardinal,” continued the Queen, “I will 
inform you, then, that Charles I., my husband, is on the eve 
of fighting a decisive battle. In case of a defeat [here Ma- 
zarin made a movement] it is necessary to provide for every- 
thing — in case of defeat, he wishes to retire to France, and to 
live here as a private gentleman. What do you say to this 
plan ? ” 

The Cardinal had listened without a muscle of his face 
betraying the emotion that he felt. As he listened his smile 
remained, as before, false and cunning ; and when the Queen 
had finishéd : 


MAZARIN AND QUEEN HENRIETTA. 389 

you think, madame,” said he in his silkiest tone, ^^that 
France agitated and indeed convulsed as she is, would be the 
safest asylum for a dethroned monarch ? The crown is already 
very far from secure on the brow of Louis XIV. ; how could 
he support the double weight?” 

‘‘ That weight has not been very heavy as far as I am con- 
cerned,” interrupted the Queen, with a mournful smile ; and I 
do not ask you to do more for my husband than you have done 
for me. You may perceive that we are very modest sovereigns, 
sir.” 

Oh, you, madame, you ” — the Cardinal hastened to say, to 
cut short the explanations that he saw coming — that is quite 
another thing. A daughter of Henry IV. — a daughter of 
that great, that sublime King” — 

Which does not prevent your refusing hospitality to his 
son-in-law — does it, sir ? You ought, however, to remember 
that this great, this sublime King, once proscribed, as my hus- 
band is going to be, sent to ask aid from England, and that 
England granted it. It is true Queen Elizabeth was not his 
niece.” 

Feccato ! ” said Mazarin, wincing under this simple logic ; 
^^your Majesty does not comprehend me: you misinterpret my 
meaning, no doubt because I do not express myself well in 
French.” 

Speak Italian, sir. Queen Mary de’ Medicis, our mother, 
taught us that language, before the Cardinal, your predecessor, 
sent her to die in exile. If there were now any remnant of 
that great, of that sublime King Henry, of whom you were 
just now speaking, he would be much astonished at that pro- 
found admiration for him united with so little pity for his 
family.” 

The perspiration stood in large drops on Mazarin’s forehead. 

This admiration is, on the contrary, so great and genuine, 
madame,” said Mazarin, without, however, availing himself of 
the Queen’s offer to change languages, that if King Charles 
I. — ■ whom may God preserve from any misfortune ! — should 
come to France, I would offer him my house — my own house ; 
but, alas ! it would be but an insecure retreat. Some day the 
people will burn my house, as they burnt Marshal d’Ancre’s. 
Poor Concino Concini ! and yet he wished only well of 
France.” 

; Yes, monsignor, like yourself,” said the Queen ironically. 


340 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Mazarin pretended not to understand the double meaning of 
the sentence he had himself uttered, and continued to lament 
over the lot of Concino Concini. 

But after all, my Lord Cardinal,” said the Queen, quite out 
of patience, what answer do you give me ? ” 

Madame,” exclaimed the Cardinal, more and more affected, 
madame, your Majesty would permit me to give you a piece 
of advice ? At the same time bear in mind, before I venture 
on such audacity, that I throw myself at your feet, as the 
humblest and most devoted of your servants for all your com- 
mands.” 

Speak, sir,” said the Queen ; the advice of such a prudent 
man as yourself must always be valuable.” 

Madame, believe me, the King ought to defend himself to 
the last extremity.” 

He has done so, sir ; and this last battle, which he is about 
to fight, with resources far inferior to those of his enemies, 
proves that he does not yield without a struggle. But should 
he, after all, be vanquished ? ” 

“ Well, then, madame, in that case, my advice — I know 
that I am very bold to give advice to your Majesty — but my 
advice is that the King should not leave his realm. Absent 
kings are soon forgotten. If he should come to France, his 
cause is lost.” 

“ But then,” said the Queen, if that be your advice, and 
you are really interested for him, send him some assistance in 
men and money, for I can do no more for him; I have sold 
even my last diamond to aid him. I have actuall}^ nothing 
left; you know it yourself, you know it better than any one 
else, sir. If any ornament had been left, I should have bought 
fuel to warm myself and my daughter this winter.” < 

Ah, madame,” said Mazarin, “your Majesty is not aware 
of what you request. From the very day when foreign aid is 
given to a king to replace him on his throne hè confesses that 
he no longer depends on the love of his subjects.” 

“To the point. Monsieur le Cardinal,” said the Queen, 
wearied at following that subtle mind into the labyrinyi of 
words in which he was losing himself ; “ to the point, and say 
Yes or No. If the King persists in remaining in England, 
will you send him assistance ? Should he come to France, 
will you grant him hospitality ? ” 

“Madame,” answered the Cardinal, affecting the greatest 

# 


MAZARIN AND QUEEN HENRIETTA, 341 


frankness, ‘‘ I will prove to your Majesty, I hope, how com- 
pletely I am devoted to you, and what a great desire I have 
to terminate an affair which your Majesty takes so much to 
heart ; after which, I hope that your Majesty will no longer 
doubt my zeal in your service.” 

The Queen bit her lips and moved impatiently on her chair. 
“ Well, then, what will you do ? ” said she ; “ come, let us see.” 

I will instantly go and consult the Queen on this question, 
and we will then lay the matter before the Parliament.” 

“ With which you are now at variance, are you not ? You 
will depute Broussel to bring it forward. That is quite 
enough. Monsieur le Cardinal, quite enough. I understand 
you ; or, rather, I am wrong. Go to the Parliament ; for from 
that Parliament, the enemy of kings, the only relief that pre- 
vented her dying of cold and hunger this winter has come to 
the daughter of that great, that sublime Henry you so much 
admire.” 

And with these words the Queen rose from her seat with 
majestic indignation. 

The Cardinal held out his clasped hands to her. 

Ah, madame, madame, how ill you understand me, mon 
Dieu !” , 

But Queen Henrietta, without even turning toward him who 
was there shedding those h^’^pocritical tears, crossing the cabinet, 
opened the door herself, and, in the midst of his Eminence’s 
numerous guards, of courtiers eager to pay their respects to 
him, of the magnificence of a rival royalty, went and took the arm 
of Lord de Winter, who was standing alone and unnoticed. 
Poor Queen ! already fallen from her high estate ! all still 
made her their obeisance ; but now she had, in fact, only one 
^rm on w^hich she could lean. 

Never mind,” said Mazarin, when he was left alone ; 
this has given me pain ; it is but a rough part to play ; but 
I have said nothing, either to the one party or the other. Hum ! 
that Cromwell is but an uncouth king-hunter. I pity his min- 
isters, if he should ever have any. Bernouin ! ” 

Bernouin entered. 

Inquire if that young man whom you introduced, in a 
dark-coloured doublet and with short hair, is still in the 
palace.” 

Bernouin left the room. The Cardinal occupied the time of 
his absence in turning outward the bezel of his ring, in rubbing 


342 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


tlie diamond, and in admiring its water ; and as a tear was 
still swimming in liis eye and dimmed his vision, he shook his 
head to get rid of it. 

Bernoiiin returned with Comminges, who was on guard. 

Monsignor,” said Comminges, as I .was conducting the 
young man your Eminence inquires for, he went up to the glass 
door of the gallery, and looked at something with great astom 
ishment ; without doubt, it was Raphael’s beautiful picture, 
which is opposite that door. Afterward he appeared to medi- 
tate a moment, and then descended the staircase. I think I 
saw him mount a grey horse and leave the courtyard of the 
palace. But is not monsignor going to the Queen ? ” 

“ For what ? ” 

M. de Guitaut, my uncle, has just informed me that her 
Majesty has received news from the army.” 

“ Very well ; I will go directly.” 

At this moment M. Villequier appeared ; he came, indeed, 
from the Queen, in search of the Cardinal. 

Comminges was right : Mordaunt had really acted as he said. 
In passing through the gallery parallel to the glassed-in gallery, 
he had perceived De Winter, who was waiting for Queen Hen- 
rietta.to finish her negotiations. 

At this sight the young man stopped short, not in admira- | 
tion of Raphael’s picture, but as if fascinated by the appearance i 
of a horrible object. His eyes dilated, a shudder ran through 
his whole body ; one would have said that he wished to break 
through the barrier of glass that separated him from his 
enemy; for if Comminges had seen the expression of hatred 
that shone in the young man’s eyes on looking at De Winter, 
he would not have doubted for an instant that that English 
gentleman was his mortal enemy. 

But Mordaunt paused. 

It was doubtless for the purpose of considering, for instead of 
allowing himself to be carried away by the first impulse, which 
had urged him to go directly to Lord de Winter, he slowly 
descended the staircase, left the palace with head depressed, 
got into his saddle, stationed his horse at the corner of the Rue 
Richelieu, and, with his eyes fixed on the gate, waited till the 
Queen’s carriage should issue from the courtyard. 

He had not long to wait, for the Queen remained scarcely a 
quarter of an hour with Mazarin ; but this quarter of an hour 
appeared an age to him who was waiting. 


HOW THE UNFORTUNATE TAKE CHANCES. 343 


At last the heavy machine which was then called a coach 
rumbled through the gates ; and De Winter, again on horse- 
back, leant forward toward the door to converse with her 
Majesty. 

The horses set off at a trot, and took the way to the Louvre, 
which they entered. Before she left the Carmelite convent, 
i Queen Henrietta had told her daughter to wait for her at the 
i palace which she had long inhabited, and which she had left 
only because her poverty appeared even more oppressive in 
i gilded saloons. 

I Mordaunt followed the carriage ; and when he saw it enter 
the gloomy arch, he took his station against a shaded wall, 
and remained motionless in the midst of the mouldings of 
Jean Goujon, like a bas-relief representing an equestrian 
; statue. 

Here again he waited, as he had before done at the Palais 
Royal. 


I CHAPTER XLI. 

HOW THE UNFORTUNATE SOMETIMES TAKE CHANCE FOR 
PROVIDENCE. 

Î Well, madame ? ’’ said Lord de Winter, when the Queen 
I had dismissed her attendants. 

Well, what I foresaw has happened, my Lord.’’ 

He refuses ? ” 

Did I not tell you so before we went ? ” 

The Cardinal refuses to receive the King ? Prance refuses 
I hospitality to an unfortunate prince ? But it is the first time 
such a thing has happened, madame.” 

I did not say France, my Lord, I said the Cardinal ; and 
the Cardinal is not even a Frenchman.” 

“ But did you see the Queen ? ” 

‘^It is useless,” replied Henrietta, shaking her head sor- 
rowfully ; the Queen will never say Yes when the Cardinal 
has said Ko. Do you not know that this Italian manages 
everything, domestic as well as foreign ? And more than that, 
! and returning to what I said to you before, I should not be 
! surprised if we had been anticipated by Cromwell. He was 
; embarrassed when he spoke to me, and yet firm in his deter- 


344 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


mination to refuse. Then, did you observe the commotion 
there was in the Palais Royal, the constant running about of 
busy men ? Can they’ have received any news, my Lord ? ’’ 

“Not from England, madame. I used so much despatch that 
I am sure I have not been anticipated. I left only three days 
ago ; I passed through the army of the Puritans as if by a 
mijiacle ; I took post with my lacquey, Tony ; and the horses 
which we now ride I bought at Paris. Besides, before he 
risks anything, I am certain that the King will wait for your 
Majesty’s answer.” 

“ You will tell him, my Lord,” replied the Queen, in despair, 
“ that I am powerless ; that I have suffered as much as he has, 
nay, more, constrained as I am to eat the bread of an exile, 
and to beg hospitality from false friends who deride my tears, 
and that as to his own royal person, it behooves him to sacri- 
hce it generously, and to die like a king. I will go and die 
with him.” 

“ Madame, madame,” cried De Winter, “ your Majesty is giv- 
ing yourself up to despondency ; perhaps some hope is left.” 

“No more friends, no more friends in the whole world, my 
Lord, than yourself. Oh, my God, my God ! ” exclaimed Hen- 
rietta, raising her eyes to heaven, “ hast Thou removed from 
the earth all the generous hearts that once existed on the 
earth ? ” 

“ I hope not, madame,” said De Winter, pondering ; “ I 
spoke to you of four men.” 

“ And what can you do with four men ? ” 

“ Four devoted men, four men resolved to die, can do a great 
deal, believe me, madame ; and those of whom I spoke did a 
great deal once.” 

“ And where are these four men ? ” 

“Ah ! that I do not know. For nearly twenty year i I have 
lost sight of them ; and yet whenever I have seen the King in 
danger, I have thought of them.” 

“Were these men, then, your friends ? ” 

“ One of the men had my life in his power and gave it me. 
I do not know whether he has remained my friend ; but since 
that time I have remained his.” 

“ And are these men in France, my Lord ?” 

“I believe so.” 

“ Tell me their names ; perhaps I may have heard them 
nientioned, and might assist you in your inquiry.” 


HOW THE UNFORTUNATE TAKE CHANCES. 345 


“ One of them was called the Chevalier d’Artagnan/’ 

“ Oh, my Lord, if I am not mistaken, this Chevalier d’Ar- 
tagnan is now a lieutenant in the Guard's. I have heard his 
name mentioned ; but observe that this man is, I fear, a 
devoted Cardinalist.” 

In that case it would be a last misfortune,’’ said De Win- 
ter, and I should begin to think that Fate is really against 
us.” 

“ But the others,” said the Queen, who clung to this last 
hope as a shipwrecked mariner does to the last remnants of 
his vessel, — ‘^the others, my Lord !” 

“ The name of the • second I heard by chance — for,<before 
fighting us, these four gentlemen gave us their pames — the 
second was called the Comte de la Fère. As for the two others, 
the custom that I fell ifito of calling them by their borrowed 
names has caused me to forget their real ones.” 

Oh, mon Dieu ! it would be of great consequence to find 
them,” said the Queen, since you imagine that these excellent 
men might be so useful to the King.” 

“ Oh, yes,” said De Winter. For they are the very ones. 
Listen, madame, and try to remember. Did you never hear 
that Queen Anne of Austria was formerly saved from perhaps 
the greatest danger that a queen ever encountered ? ” 

Yes, at the period of her amours with the Duke of Buck- 
ingham ; but I don’t know the circumstances. It was some- 
thing about some diamond studs.” 

A^es, madame, that is it ; and those men saved her. It 
grieves me to think that if the names of those gentlemen are 
not known to you it is because the Queen has forgotten them, 
when she ought to have made them the first gentlemen in her 
realm.” 

Well, my Lord, we must look for them. But what can 
four men do, or rather three ; for I tell you that you must not 
reckon on M. d’Artaghan.” 

“ He would be one valiant sword the less, madame ; but 
there would still be three others, without reckoning mine. 
Now, four devoted men surrounding the King, to guard him 
from his enemies, to encircle him in battle, to aid him with 
their counsel, to escort him in his flight, would be sufi" 
not to render him victorious, but to save him if vanquished, to 
aid him in crossing the sea; and whatever Mazarin maj say, 
your royal husband, once on the shores of Fram e, would there 


346 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


find as many retreats and asylums as the seag-nll in a 
storm/’ 

Look, then ; try to find these gentlemen, my Lord ; and 
should you find them, should they consent to pass over into 
England with you, on the day that we remount the throne I 
will give to each of them a duchy, and, besides that, as much 
gold as would pay for the Palace of Whitehall. So try to find 
them, my Lord, I beseech you ! ” 

I would, madame,” replied Le Winter, and I should cer- 
tainly find them, but time is lacking. Does your Majesty forget 
that the King is waiting for his answer, and is waiting in deep 
anxiety ? ” 

Then we are lost ! ” exclaimed the Queen, in a broken- 
hearted tone. 

At this moment the door opened, the young Henrietta 
appeared, and the Queen, with that sublime power over her- 
self which constitutes maternal heroism, restrained her tears, 
at the same time making a sign to Le Winter to change the 
conversation. 

But this sudden reaction, well managed though it was, did 
not deceive the young Princess ; she stopped on the threshold, 
heaved a sigh, and, addressing the Queen : 

Why are you always weeping when I am not with you, 
mother ? ” said she. 

The Queen smiled, and, instead of answering her : 

There, Le Winter,” said she, I have at any rate gained 
one thing by being only half a queen, which is, that my chil- 
dren call me mother instead of madame.” 

Then turning tow9,rd her daughter : 

‘‘ What do you want, Henrietta ? ” she continued. 

Mother,” said the young Princess, a cavalier has just 
entered the Louvre, and requests the liberty of paying his 
respects to your Majesty. He is just come from the army, 
and says that he has a letter for you, from Marshal de Gram- 
mont, I believe.” 

Ah ! ” said the Queen to Le Winter, he is one of my 
faithful friends. But do you not observe, my dear Lord, that 
we arc so badly served that my daughter is compelled to per- 
foi'Li the office of an usher.” 

“ Madame,” said Le Winter, “ have pity on me, you break 
my !. art.” 

And who is this cavalier, Henrietta ? ” said the Queen. 


now THE UNFOKTl^^^ATE TAKE CHANCES. 347 


I saw him from the window, madame ; he is a young man, 
who seems to be scarcely sixteen years old, and is called the 
Vicomte de Bragelonne.” 

The Queen smiled and nodded. The young Princess opened 
the door, and Kaoul made his appearance. 

He took three steps toward the Queen, and knelt down. 

“ Madame,” said he, I am the bearer of a letter from m3" 
friend, the M. le Comte de Guiche, who tells me that he has 
the honour to be one of your servitors. Tliis letter contains 
important news and the expression of his respects.” 

On hearing the name of the Comte de Guiche, a colour spread 
over the young Princess’s cheeks-< The Queen looked at her 
with some severity. 

You said the letter was from Marshal de Grammont, Henri- 
etta,” said the Queen. 

I thought so,” stammered the young girl. 

It is my fault, madame,” interposed Raoul ; in fact, I 
announced myself as having come from Marshal de Grammont ; 
but he cannot write, being wounded in the right arm, and the 
Comte de Guiche acted as his secretary.” 

‘‘ Then there has been a battle ? ” said the Queen, making a 
sign to Raoul to rise. 

Yes, madame,” replied the young man, delivering the letter 
to Lord de Winter, who came forward to receive it and handed 
it to the Queen. 

At this declaration that a battle had been fought, the young 
Princess opened her lips to ask a question which no doubt 
interested her, but she closed them without uttering a word, 
while the roses gradually vanished from her cheeks. 

The Queen observed all these emotions, and doubtless her 
maternal heart interpreted them correctly ; for, again address- 
ing Raoul : 

“ I hope that no harm has befallen the young Comte de 
Guiche,” said she ; for not only is he one of our servitors, as 
he has told you, but one of our friends.” 

No, madame,” replied Raoul ; on the contrary, he has this 
day acquired great gloiy, and has had the honour of being 
embraced by the Prince on the battle-field.” 

The young Princess clapi)ed her hands ; but quite ashamed 
of being betrayed by her feelings into such a demonstration of 
joy, she half turned away and leaned down to a vase of roses, 
pretending to smell them. 


348 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Let us see what the Count says/'' said the Queen. 

“I have had the honour of telling your Majesty that he 
wrote in his father’s name.” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

The Queen unsealed the letter 'and read : 

Madame and Queen : 

‘‘ Being unable to have the honour of writing to you myself 
on account of a wound in my right hand, I avail myself of the 
services of my son, M. le Comte de Quiche (whom you know to 
he as true a servant to your Majesty as his father^, to inform 
you that we have just gained the battle of Lens, and that this 
victory cannot faU greatly to increase the power of the Cardinal 
and the Queen in the affairs of Europe. Therefore, if your 
Majesty will follow my advice, you will take advantage of this 
moment to lay the claims of your august husband to favour 
before the King^s Government,^ M. le Vicomte de Bragelonne, 
who will have the honour of delivering this letter, is my son^s 
friend, to whom, indeed, he in all probability is indebted for his 
life. He is a gentleman in whom your Majesty may entirely 
confide, should you have any verbal or written message to send 
to me. 

I have the honour to be, with respect, etc.. 

Maréchal de Gî’ammont.” 

At the moment when the service he had rendered the Count 
was mentioned, Raoul had not been able to help turning his 
head toward the young Princess, and he had then seen an 
expression of infinite gratitude to him beaming from her eyes. 
He had no longer any doubt : the daughter of Charles I. loved 
his friend. 

The battle of Lens won ! ” said the Queen. They are 
fortunate here : they win battles. Yes, Marshal de Grammont 
is right: this will change the aspect of affairs; but I much 
fear that it will do nothing for ours, if, indeed, it does not 
injure them. This news is very recent, sir,” continued the 
Queen, ‘‘and I am greatly obliged by your having used such 
despatch in conveying it to me. Had it not been for you, for 
this letter, I should not have heard of it until to-morrow, or 
perhaps the day after to-morrow. I should have been the last 
person in Paris to hear it.” 

“ Madame,” said Raoul, “ the Louvre is the second palace to 
which this news has come ; it is unknown elsewhere, and I 


HOW THE UNFORTUNATE TAKE CHANCES. 349 


swore to M. le Comte de Guiche that I would deliver this letter 
to your Majesty even before T had embraced my guardian.’’ 

And is your guardian a Bragelonne like yourself ? ” asked 
Lord de Winter. I formerly knew a Bragelonne ; does he 
still live ? ” 

“No, sir, he is dead, and my guardian, with whom he was 
closely connected, I believe, inherited from him that property 
the title of which I bear.” 

“And your guardian, sir,” said the Queen, who could not 
help feeling an interest in this handsome youth, “ what is his 
name ? ” 

“M. le Comte de la Fère, madame,” replied the young man, 
bowing. 

De Winter made a movement of surprise, while the Queen 
looked at him, radiant with joy. 

“ The Comte de la Fère ! she exclaimed : “ is not that the 
name you mentioned to me ? ” 

De Winter could scarcely believe what he had heard. 

“ M. le Comte de la Fère ! ” he exclaimed in turn. “ Oh, sir, 
answer me, I beseech you : is not the Comte de la Fère a 
nobleman whom I knew, handsome and brave, who was one of 
the Musketeers of Louis XIII., and who may now be forty- 
seven or forty-eight years of age ? ” 

“ Yes, sir ; you are perfectly right.” 

“ And who served under a feigned name ? ” 

“ Under the name of Athos. Only lately I heard his friend, 
M. d’Artagnan, call him by that name.” 

“ It is he, madame, it is he — God be praised ! And is he 
in Paris ? ” continued De Winter, addressing Eaoul. 

Then turning again to the Queen : 

“ Hope still, madame,” said he ; “ hope ! Providence declares 
for us, since it enables me to find this brave gentleman in such 
a miraculous manner. And where is he now, sir, I beg of 
you ? ” 

“ M. le Comte de la Fère is at present residing at the Hôtel 
du Grand Boi Charlemagne, in the Eue Guénégaud.” 

“ Thank you, sir. Eequest this excellent friend to remain 
at home. I will come very shortly to greet him.” 

“ Sir, I will obey you with great pleasure, if her Majesty 
will give me peripission to depart.” 

“ Go, M. le Vicomte de Bragelonne,” said the Queen, “ and 
be assured of our affection for you.” 


350 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Raoul bowed respectfully to the two Princesses, saluted De 
Winter, and left the room. 

De Winter and the Queen continued their conversation in a 
low voice for some time, that the young Princess might not 
hear them ; but this precaution was unnecessary, for she was 
employing herself with her own thoughts. 

Then, just as De Winter was" about to take leave : 

“ Wait, my Lord,’’ said the Queen. I had kept this dia- 
mond cross, which I received from my mother, and this crown 
of St. Michael, which my husband gave me, — they are worth 
about fifty thousand livres, — and I had sworn to die of hun- 
ger rather than part with these precious pledges. But now 
that these two ornaments may prove useful to him or to his 
defenders, all must be sacrificed to that hope. Take them, 
and should you w^ant money for your expedition, sell them 
without hesitation, my Lord, — sell them. But if you find the 
means of preserving them, remember, my Lord, that I shall 
consider you to have rendered me the greatest service that a 
gentleman can pay to a queen, and that, in the day of my 
prosperity, he who shall bring me back this crown and this 
cross will be blessed by me and my children.” 

Madame,” said De Winter, your Majesty shall be served 
by a most devoted follower. I will deposit in a most secure 
place these two jewels, which, indeed, I would not have ac- 
cepted if anything had been left from my former fortune. 
But my prox^erty is confiscated, my ready money is used up, 
and I have disposed of everything I possess. In an hour I 
will visit the Comte de la Père, and to-morrow your Majesty 
shall have a decisive answer.” 

The Queen gave her hand to Lord de Winter, who kissed it 
respectfully, and turning toward her daughter : 

“ My Lord,” said she, “ you were charged to deliver some- 
thing to this child from her father.” 

De Winter was astonished ; he did not know what the Queen 
meant. 

The young Henrietta came forward, smiling and blushing, 
and presented her forehead to his Lordship. 

‘‘ Tell my father,” said the young Princess, that whether 
king or fugitive, victor or vanquished, powerful or x>oor, he 
has in me a daughter most obedient and affectionate.” 

T know it, madame,” said De Winter, touching Henrietta’s 
forehead with his lips. 


UNCLE AND NEPHEW 


351 


He then departed, traversing, unattended and imcon ducted, 
those vast, deserted, and dark chambers, wiping away the 
tears which, all seared as was his heart by fifty years of a 
courtier’s life, he could not refrain from shedding at the sight 
of this regal adversity, so dignified, and at the same time so 
severe. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 

Lord de Winter’s horse and lacquey' were waiting for 
him at the gate. He therefore went toward his hotel absorbed 
in thought, and occasionally looking back at the dark and 
silent front of the Louvre. He then saw a horseman detach 
himself, as it were, from the wall, and follow him at some dis- 
tance ; he remembered having observed a similar figure on 
leaving the Palais Loyal. 

Lord de Winter’s lacquey, who was following him at the 
distance of a few paces, had also remarked this horseman with 
some inquietude. 

Tony,” said Lord de Winter, inaking a sign for his valet 
to join him. 

“ Here I am, my Lord ; ” and the lacquey rode up to his 
master’s side. 

Have ycv'T observed the man who is following us ? ” 

Yes, my Lord.” 

“ Who is he ? ” 

I have not the slightest idea ; only he has followed your 
Lordship from the Palais Loyal, waited at the Louvre until 
you came out, and left that place with you.” 

Some spy of the Cardinal’s,” said De Winter to himself ; 
let us pretend not to observe that he is watching us.” 

And spurring forward, he plunged into that labyrinth of 
streets that conducted him to his hotel, situated on the side of 
the Marais ; for having formerly resided in the Place Loyale, 
Lord de Winter had naturally taken up his abode near his 
former dwelling. 

The stranger put his horse to a gallop. 

De Winter dismounted at his hotel and went up to his room, 
resolved to have the spy watched 5 but as he was laying his 


352 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


hat and gloves on a table, he saw, in a mirror which was 
opposite to him, the reflection of a man who was entering tlu; 
doorway. 

He turned. Mordaunt stood before him. 

De Winter became pale and remained motionless. Mor- 
daunt stood at the door, cold, threatening, and like the Com- 
mander’s statue in ^^Don Juan.” 

There was a moment of freezing silence between these two 
men. 

Sir,” said De Winter, I thought that I had made you 
understand once and for all that this persistency of yours 
wearied me ; retire, therefore, or I will take means to expel 
you from the house, as I did in London. I am not your uncle 
— I do not know you !” 

Uncle ! ” replied Mordaunt, in his harsh and mocking 
voice, you are mistaken : you will not drive me away, as you 
did in London — you will not dare. As for denying that I am 
your nephew, you will think twice of it now that I have learnt 
many things of which I was ignorant a year ago.” 

“ And what signifies to me what you have learnt ? ” said De 
Winter. 

Oh, it signifies a great deal to you, my uncle, I am sure ; 
and you will soon be of my opinion,” he added, with a smile 
that caused a shudder to run through the veins of him he 
addressed. When I came to your house in London the first 
time, it was to ask you what had become of my property ; 
when I came the second time it was to ask you what had 
sullied my name. But this time, I present' my s'eif before you 
to put a question to you far different and far more dreadful 
than the others — to ask you, as God asked the first murderer : 
‘ Cain, what hast thou done with thy brother Abel ? ’ My 
Lord, what hast thou done with thy sister — with thy sister, 
who was my mother ? ” 

De Winter recoiled under the fire of those flaming eyes. 

With your mother ? ” said he. 

Yes, with my mother, my Lord,” replied the young man, 
moving his head up and down. 

De Winter exerted a powerful effort over his feelings, and 
plunging into the depths of his recollections to find a sufficient 
expression of his hatred, he exclaimed : 

“ Go and seek your information from hell ; perhaps hell can 
answer you.” 


UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 


353 


'^The young man then advanced into the room until he stood 
fatee to face with Lord de Winter, and, folding his arms : 

“ I have asked the executioner of Béthune,’’ said he, in a 
hollow voice, and with a countenance livid with anguish and 
rage, ‘‘ and the executioner of Béthune has given me an 
answer.” 

De Winter fell on a chair as if struck by lightning, and in 
vain attempted to reply. 

Yes, is it not so ? ” continued the young man ; that word 
explains everything — with that key the abyss opens. My 
mother was her husband’s heir, and you murdered my mother 
— my name would have insured me my paternal proj)erty, 
and you robbed me of my name ! Then Avhen you had de- 
prived me of my name, you robbed me of my estate ! I am 
not now surprised that you disowned me, or that you persist 
in disowning me : it would be unseemly to Call him your 
nephew whom you have despoiled and impoverished — the 
man you have made an orphan by murdering his mother ! ” 
These words produced the very opposite effect to that which 
Mordaunt had expected. De Winter recalled what a monster 
her Ladyship was ; he rose up, grave and calm, and subduing 
the fiery look of the young man by his severe aspect : 

So you wish to penetrate this horrible secret, sir ? ” said 
he. Well, then, be it so. Learn now what that woman was 
for whom you this day come to call me to a reckoning. That 
woman had, in all human probability, poisoned my brother, 
and, to enjoy my inheritance, she endeavoured afterward to 
murder me. I have proof of it. What will you say to that ? ” 

I will say that she was my mother ! ” 

She caused the unfortunate Duke of Buckingham to ])e 
stabbed by a man who, until then, was just, good, and pure. 
What will you say to that crime, of which I have also proof ? ” 
“ She was my mother ! ” 

Having returned to France, she poisoned a young woman, 
beloved by one of her enemies, in a Carmelite convent at 
Béthune. Will this crime convince you of the justice of her 
punishment ? — for of this crime I also possess the proof.” 

She was my mother ! ” exclaimed the young man, who 
had uttered these exclamations with progressively increasing 
vehemence. 

In fine, cumbered with murders and debauchery, execrated 
by all, still threatening, like a tigress craving for blood, she 


354 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER,. 


fell under the blows of men whom she had driven to despera- 
tion^ and who had never injured her — she found judges 
whom her detestable outrages had evoked. And this execu- 
tioner whom you met, and who you pretend told you every- 
thing, — if he did tell you everything, he must have informed 
you that he actually leaped for joy at avenging upon her the 
disgrace and suicide of his brother. A corrupt girl, an adul- 
terous spouse, an unnatural sister, a homicide, a poisoner, 
detested by every one who knew her, by every nation that had 
received her into its bosom, she died, accursed of God aiod 
man ! There, that is what that woman was ! ’’ 

A sob, too powerful to be restrained, almost lacerated Mor- 
daunt’s throat and drove the blood back to his livid face. 
He clenched his fists, his face streaming with perspiration, his 
hair bristling on his forehead like that of Hamlet, he cried 
out, in a paroxysm of fury : 

Silence, sir ! She was my mother ! Her frailties, I know 
them not — her vices, I know them not — her crimes, I know 
them not ! But what I do know is, that I had a mother — 
that five men, leagued against one woman, slew her ^cretly, 
darkly, and silently, like cowards ! What I also l/now is, 
that you were one of them, sir, — that you were one of them, 
my uncle, and that you cried out, as the others did, and even 
louder than the others : She must die ! Therefore I fore- 
warn you — and mark well my words, and let them be so 
deeply engraven on your memory that they may never be for- 
gotten — that murder, which has torn everything from me — 
that murder, which has made me nameless — that murder, 
which has made me a beggar — for that murder, which has 
made me corrupt, wicked, and implacable, I shall first call 
you to a reckoning, and afterward, when I have discovered 
them, those who were your accomplices ! ” 

With deadly hatred in his eyes, his mouth foaming with 
rage, his clenched fist extended, Mordaunt had taken a step 
toward He Winter, with a mien terrible and threatening. 

His Lordship put his hand to his sword, and said, with a 
smile of a man who had sported with death for thirty years : 

‘‘ Would you assassinate me, sir ? In that I do recognise 
you as my nephew — for you are the true son of your 
mother ! 

“ No,” replied Mordaunt, compelling all the features of his 
countenance and all the muscles of his body to soften down 


FA THERHOOD, 


355 


and resume their normal state, — no, I will not kill you — at 
any rate not at this time ; for without you, I should not be 
able to discover the others. But when I know them, then, 
sir, tremble. I have stabbed the executioner of Béthune — I 
stabbed him without pity, without commiseration — and he 
was the least guilty of you all ! ” 

Havjng said these words, the young man left the room and 
went down the staircase with sufficient calmess not to be 
noticed. On the lower landing-place he passed Tony, who was 
leaning against the balustrade, and only waiting for a call from 
his master to go up to him. 

But De Winter did not call. Overwhelmed and fainting, 
he remained intently listening. Then, only when he heard 
the retreating steps of Mordaunt’s horse, he fell back into a 
chair, exclaiming : 

My God ! I thank Thee that I am the only one he knows ! ” 


CHAPTEB XLIII. 

FATHERHOOD. 

While this dreadful scene was passing at Lord de Winter’s, 
Athos, seated by the window of his room, with his elbow resting 
on a table and his head supported on his hand, was listening, 
with eyes and ears alike, to the account that Baoul was giving 
him of his adventures on his journey, and the particulars of 
the battle. 

The gentleman’s handsome and noble countenance was 
beaming with indescribable happiness at the recital of these 
first impressions, so fresh and so pure ; he drank in the 
sounds of that youthful voice (already attuned to noble senti- 
ments) as he would have done a piece of melody. He had 
forgotten all that was gloomy in the past or cloudy in the 
future. It might almost be said that the return of this much- 
loved boy had converted all his fears into hopes. Athos was 
happy, happier than he had ever been before. 

‘‘And you were present, and took a share in this great 
battle, Bragelonne ? ” said the former Musketeer. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ And it was a fierce one, you say ? ” 


356 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


The Prince charged in person eleven times/’ 

“ He is a great warrior, Bragelonne ? ” 

He is a hero, sir ! I did not lose sight of him for one 
instant. Oh ! what an honour it is, sir, to be called Conde, 
and thus to uphold his name.” 

Calm and brilliant, is he not ? ” 

Calm as if on parade ; brilliant as if at a fête. When we 
attacked the enemy it was at a slow march. We were forbid- 
den to fire first ; and we advanced on the Spaniards, who held 
possession of a height with their musket at the thigh. 
When we had got within thirty paces of them, the Prince 
turned toward the soldiers : 

^ Boys,’ said he, ^ you have to sustain a furious discharge ; 
but after that, be quite easy — you will make short work with 
these gentry.’ 

“ There was such a dead silence that both friends and ene- 
mies heard these words. Then, raising his sword : ^ Sound, 
trumpets ! ’ said he.” 

Well, well, on a similar occasion you would do the same, 
Baoul, would you not ? ” 

‘‘ I think so, sir ; for I found it all very beautiful and very 
grand. When we came within twenty paces of them we saw 
all those muskets level themselves like a brilliant line, for the 
sun was shining on their barrels. 

^ Slow march, boys, slow march,’ said the Prince ; ^ now 
is the time.’ ” 

And were you afraid, Baoul ? ” inquired the Count. 

Yes, sir,” replied the youth, with simplicity; felt what 
resembled a sudden chill at my heart, and at the word ^ Pire ! ’ 
which in Spanish resounded along their ranks, I shut my eyes 
and thought of you.” 

“ Beally, Baoul ? ” said Athos, pressing his hand. 

Yes, sir ; and at that moment there was such a report that 
one would have supposed hell itself had opened, and those 
who were not killed actually felt the heat of the fire. I 
opened my eyes, astonished at not being dead, or at any rate 
wounded. A third part of the squadron was stretched on the 
ground, mutilated and bleeding. At this moment I met the 
Prince’s eye ; thenceforth I thought only of one thing — that 
he was looking at me. I spurred forward, and found myself 
in the midst of the enemy’s ranks.” 

And the Prince was satisfied with you ? ” 


FA THERHOOD. 


357 


“ He at leaü 7 told me so, sir, when he ordered me to accom- 
pany M. de Chatillon to Paris, who brings the news to the 
Queen, and also the captured standards. 

^ Go,’ said the Prince to me. ^ The enemy cannot rally 
in less than a fortnight ; and until that time I shall not need 
you. Go, and embrace those you love and who love you, 
and tell my sister, Madame de Longueville, that I thank 
her for the present she made me when she gave you to me.’ 

And I am come, sir,” added Paoul, looking at the Count 
with a smile of deep affection ; for I thought that you would 
be very glad to see me.” 

Athos drew the youth to him and kissed him on the fore- 
head as if he had been a young girl. 

So now, Paoul,” said he, ‘^you are launched. You have 
dukes for friends, a marshal of Prance for your godfather, a 
prince of the blood for your captain, and, in one and the same 
day of your return, you have been received by two queens. 
This is a fine thing for a novice ! ” 

Ah, sir,” said Paoul suddenly, you recall one thing 
which, in my eagerness to tell you my exploits, I had forgot- 
ten : at her Majesty the Queen of England’s there was a 
gentleman who, when I mentioned your name, uttered an 
exclamation of surprise and joy ; he said he is one of your 
friends, asked me for your address, and is soon coming to 
visit you.” 

‘‘ What is his name ? ” 

I did not presume to ask him, sir ; but although he ex- 
presses himself with elegance,'! imagine from his accent that 
he is an Englishman.” 

Ah ! ” said Athos ; and he dropped his head as if to bring 
back some recollection. When he again raised it his eyes 
were attracted by the appearance of a man who was standing 
in the half-opened doorway and looking at him with emotion. 

‘^Lord de Winter ! ” exclaimed the Count. 

Athos, my friend ! ” 

And the two gentlemen embraced. Then Athos, taking 
both his hands, said, while he looked at him : 

■ What is the matter with you, my Lord ? You appear as 
sad as I am joyful.” 

Yes, my dear friend, it is true; and I will even say that 
the sight of you redoubles my fears.” 

And De Winter looked around as if anxious for a more 


368 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


private interview. Eaoul understood that two friends 
wished to talk, and left the room without affectation. 

Come, now that we are alone, let us talk about yourself,’’ 
said Athos. 

While we are alone, let us talk about ourselves,” replied 
Lord de Winter. He is here !” 

Who ? ” 

‘^Milady’s son.” 

Athos, once more struck by that name which seemed to 
follow him like a fatal echo, again hesitated a moment, then 
frowned slightly, and in his calm tone said : 

I know it.” 

You know it ? ” 

“Yes ; Grimaud met him between Béthune and Arras, and 
returned hastily to warn me of his presence.” 

So Grimaud knew him ?” 

“No, but he was present at the deathbed of a man who 
knew him.” 

“ The executioner of Béthune ! ” exclaimed Lord de Winter. 

“ Do you know that ? ” said Athos, in astonishment. 

“ He has but just this moment left me,” replied De 
Winter ; “ he told me everything. Ah, my friend, what a 
dreadful scene ! Why did we not kill the child with the 
mother ! ” 

Athos, like all noble natures, did not impart to others the 
painful impressions he felt; on the contrary, he, as it were, 
kept them all to himself, and, in their stead, sent back hope 
and consolation. It might be said that his own personal 
sorrows issued from his soul, transmuted into joys and happi- 
ness for others. 

“ What do you fear ? ” said he, recovering, by reasoning 
with himself, from the instinctive terror he had first expe- 
rienced. “ Are we not able to defend ourselves ? Has this 
young man made himself a professional assassin — a cold- 
blooded murderer ? He has killed the executioner of Béthune 
in an excess of rage, and his fury must be now satiated.” 

De Winter smiled sadly and shook his head. 

“ Can it be that you forget his origin ? ” said he. 

“ Bah ! ” cried Athos, endeavouring to smile in his turn ; 
“it must have lost its ferocity in the second generation. 
Besides, my friend, Providence has forewarned us, so that we 
may be on our guard. We can do nothing but wait. Let us 


FA THERHOOD. 


359 


wait. But, as I said before, let us talk about yourself. AVhat 
brings you to Paris ? ” 

“ Some important affairs, which you will know hereafter. 
But what have I heard from the Queen of England — that M. 
d’Artagnan is for Mazarin ? Pardon my frankness, my friend. 
I neither hate nor blame the Cardinal, and your opinion will 
always be sacred to me. Are you also devoted to that man 
M. d’Artagnan is in the service,” replied Athos. He is, 
a soldier ; he obeys the constituted authority. M. d’Artagnan 
is not rich, and is obliged to live on his pay as a lieutenant. 
Wealthy men, like yourself, my Lord, are very rare in France.” 

Alas ! ” said De Winter, ‘‘ I am now as poor as he is, nay, 
even poorer. But let us return to yourself.” 

AAell, then, you wish to know whether I support Mazarin ? 
No — a thousand times, no ! Pardon me also for my frank- 
ness, my Lord.” 

De Winter arose and embraced Athos. 

‘‘Thanks, Count,” said he, “thanks for this happy news. 
You now see me happy and reinvigorated. Ah ! you are not 
for Mazarin; so much the better. Besides, it could not be. 
But pardon me again — are you free ? ” 

“ What do you mean by free ? ” 

“ I ask whether you are not married ? ” 

“ Ah ! as to that, no,” replied Athos, smiling. 

“ That young man, so handsome, so elegant, so graceful ” — 

“ He is a boy I am bringing up, and who does not even 
know his father.” 

“ Very w^ell ; you are still the same Athos, noble and 
generous.” 

“ Come, my Lord, what do you ask of me ? ” 

“You have still Porthos and Aramis for your friends ? ” 

“ And add D’Artagnan, my Lord. We are still four friends, 
as much devoted to one another as formerly. But when the 
question is whether to serve or to oppose the Cardinal, — to 
be Mazarins or Frondeurs, — we are but two.” 

“ Is M. Aramis with D’Artagnan ? ” demanded the Baron. 

“ No,” replied Athos ; “ M. Aramis does me the honour to 
share In my convictions.” 

“ Can you put me into communication with that charming 
and talented friend ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly, whenever you please,” 

“Is he changed ? ” 


860 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


He has become an abbé — that is all.’’ 

You alarm me ; his position must therefore have induced 
him to renounce great enterprises.” 

“ On the contrary,” said Athos, smiling, he has never been 
so much of a Musketeer as since be became an abbé ; and yon 
will find him a perfect Galaor. Do you wish me to send 
Raoul for him ? ” 

Thank you. Count ; he might not be found at home at 
this hour. But since you think that you could answer for 
him ” — 

As for myself.” 

“Could you engage to bring him to me at ten o’clock 
to-morrow, on • the Louvre bridge ? ” 

“ Ah ! ” said Athos, smiling ; “ have you a duel ? ” 

“ Yes, Count, a splendid duel — a duel in which you will be 
engaged, I hope.” 

“ Where shall we go, my Lord ? ” 

“ To her Majesty the Queen of England, who has com- 
manded me to present you to her. Count.” 

“ Why, does her Majesty know of me ? ” 

“ I know you, myself.” 

“ An enigma,” said Athos. “ But never mind ; so long as 
you have the interpretation of it, I ask for nothing more. 
Will you do me the honour of supping with me, my Lord ? ” 

“ Thank you. Count,” said De Winter ; “ but that young man’s 
visit has, I confess, deprived me of all appetite, and will 
probably spoil my sleep. What can he be doing in Paris ? 
He is not come to meet me, for he did not know of my 
journey. That young man alarms me, Count ; he will have a 
bloody future.” 

“ ^Vhat is he doing in England ? ” 

“ He is one of the most ardent followers of Cromwell.” 

“ What could have induced him to support that party ? His 
father and mother were both Catholics, I believe.” 

“ The hatred that he feels for the King.” 

“ For the King ? ” 

“ Yes, the King declared him illegitimate, deprived him of 
his estates, and forbade him to bear the name of De Winter.” 

“ And what name does he go by now ? ” 

“ Mordaunt.” 

“ Puritan, and disguised as a monk, journeying alone on the 
roads of France.” 


FA THERHOOD. 


361 


As a monk, do you say ? ” 

Yes ; did you not know it ? ” 

“ I know nothing but what he himself has told me.” 

It was thus and by accident — I ask pardon of God if I 
blaspheme — it was thus that he heard the confession of the 
executioner of Béthune.” 

‘‘ Then I understand it all : he has been sent here by 
Cromwell.” 

‘‘ To whom ? ” 

“ To Mazarin ; and the Queen guessed rightly — we have 
been anticipated; everything is clear to me now. Adieu, 
Count, till to-morrow.” 

But the night is dark,” said Athos, perceiving that Lord 
de Winter was more agitated than he wished to confess, and 
perhaps you have no lacquey.” 

‘‘ I have Tony, a good but simple lad.” 

“ Hallo ! Olivain, Grimaud, Blaisois, take your muskets 
and call the Viscount.” 

Blaisois was that great tall lad, half lacquey, half peasant, 
whom we saw announcing the dinner at the Chateau de Brage- 
lonne, and whom Athos had christened by the name of his 
province. 

Five minutes after this order had been given, Raoul entered. 

^Wiscount,” said Athos, ^‘you will escort his Lordship to 
his hotel, and allow no one to come near him.” 

Ah, Count,” said De Winter, ‘‘ for whom, then, do you take 
me ? ” 

For a stranger who does not know Paris,” replied Athos, 

and to whom the Viscount will show the way.” 

De Winter pressed his hand. 

‘‘ Grimaud,” said Athos, “ put yourself at the head of the 
troop and beware of the monk ! ” 

Grimaud started; then he nodded his head and awaited 
their departure, caressing, with a silent eloquence, the butt- 
end of his musket. 

“ Till to-morrow. Count,” said De Winter. 

“ Yes, my Lord.” 

The little troop went toward the Rue Saint Louis — Olivain 
trembling like Sosia at every doubtful gleam of light ; Blaisois 
sufficiently bold, because he did not know that they incurred 
any danger ; Tony looking from right to left, but unable to 
say one word, for he could not speak French. 


862 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


De Winter and Eaoiil walked side by side and conversed 
together. 

Griinaud, who, according to Athos’s command, led the party, 
with torch in one hand and his musket in the other, reached 
Lord de Winter’s hotel, rapped at the door with his knuckles, 
and when it was opened, bowed to his Lordship without say- 
ing a word. 

They returned back in the same order. Grimand’s piercing 
eyes saw nothing suspicious, except a kind of shadow hidden 
at the corner of the Eue Guénégaud and the quay ; and he 
fancied that he had before, on passing, remarked tins lurking 
night-watcher who attracted his eyes. He spurred toward 
him ; but before he could reach him the shadow had disap- 
peared down a lane, where Grimaud did not consider it pru- 
dent to follow him. 

They gave Athos an account of the success of the expedi- 
tion ; and then, as it was ten o’clock, retired to their sleeping- 
rooms. 

The next morning, on opening his eyes, Athos, in his turn, 
perceived Eaoul by his bedside. The young man was com- 
pletely dressed, and reading a new work by M. Chapelain. 

“ Already up, Eaoul ? ” said the Count. 

Yes, sir,” replied the youth, with some slight hesitation. 

I have slept badly.” 

You, Eaoul ! — you slept badly ! Did anything worry 
you ? ” asked Athos. 

Sir, you will say that I am in great haste to leave you, 
seeing that I am as yet scarcely arrived ; but ” — 

So you had only two days’ leave of absence, Eaoul ? ” 

On the contrary, I have ten. I was not intending to go 
to the camp.” 

Athos smiled. 

Where then,” said he — unless it be a secret. Viscount ? 
You are nearly a man, since you have made your first cam- 
paign ; and you have thus acquired the right of going where 
you like, without saying anything to me.” 

“ Never, sir,” said Eaoul ; so long as I have the happiness 
of possessing you as my guardian, shall I think myself at 
liberty to free myself from a guardianship that is so dear to 
me. But I should like to pass a single day only at Blois. Ah, 
sir, you look as if you were going to laugh at me.” 

No, on the contrary,” said Athos, suppressing a sigh — - 


FATHERHOOD, 363 

no, T do not laugh, Viscount. You wish to revisit Blois, 
and it is quite natural.” 

“Then you will allow me!” exclaimed Raoul, quite de- 
lighted. 

“ Assuredly, Raoul.” 

“ And you are not secretly displeased, sir ? ” 

“ Not at all. Why should I be displeased at what makes 
you happy ? ” 

“ Ah, sir, how good you are ! ” exclaimed the youth, making 
a motion as if to fall on Athos’s neck ; but respect restrained 
him. 

Athos opened his arms. 

Then I may set off directly ? ” 

When you please, Raoul.” 

Raoul took three steps, to leave the room. 

I have thought of one thing, sir,” said he : “ it is that I 
am indebted to Madame la Duchesse de Chevreuse for my 
kind introduction to the Prince.” 

“ And that you owe her some thanks — is it not so, Raoul ? ” 

“ It appears so to me, sir ; but you must decide it.” 

“ Go by the Hôtel de Luynes, Raoul, and inquire whether 
the Duchess can receive you. I perceive with pleasure that 
you do not forget the courtesies of society. You will take 
Grimaud and Olivain.” 

“ Both of them, sir ? ” demanded Raoul, with astonishment. 

“ Yes, both.” 

Raoul bowed and left the room. 

On seeing him shut the door, and hearing his joyous and 
ringing voice call GHmaud and Olivain, Athos sighed. 

“ It is very soon to leave me,” thought he, shaking his head ; 
“ but he obeys the usual law. Nature is thus constituted, and 
ever looks forward. He certainly still loves that young girl ; 
but will he love me less because he loves others ? ” 

And Athos internally confessed that he did not expect such 
a prompt departure ; but his own feelings were forgotten by 
Athos in the thought that Raoul was so happy. 

At ten o’clock everything was ready for the departure. 
AVhile Athos was looking at Raoul, who was mounting his 
horse, a lacquey arrived from Madame de Chevreuse. He was 
/commissioned to tell the Count de la Père that she had heard 
I'of her young protege’s return, as also of his conduct in the battle, 
land that she would be much pleased to congratulate him. 


864 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Intorm the Duchess,” replied Athos, ^^that the Viscount is 
just mounting his horse to proceed to the Hôtel de Luynes.” 

Having given fresh instructions to Grimaud, Athos waived 
his hand to Raoul to depart. 

Moreover, on reflection, Athos thought that perhaps, after 
all, there was no harm in Raoul leaving Paris at this moment. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

ANOTHER QUEEN WHO ASKS ASSISTANCE. 

Athos had sent to Aramis in the morning, and had de- 
spatched the letter by Blaisois, the only servant he had left. 
Blaisois found Bazin putting on his beadle’s gown ; he was 
this day on duty at Notre Dame. 

Athos had directed Blaisois to endeavour to see Aramis him- 
self. So Blaisois, a tall, awkward lad who thought of nothing 
but his instructions, had inquired for the Abbé d’Herblay ; and, 
in spite of Bazin’s assurances that he was not at home, had per- 
sisted in such a manner that Bazin flew into a rage. Blaisois, 
seeing Bazin in his clerical costume, had paid but little atten- 
tion to his denials, and wished to pass further ; imagining that 
the man with whom he was dealing was gifted with all the 
virtues of his garb — that is to say, with Christian charity 
and patience. 

But Bazin, always a Musketeer’s lacquey when his blood 
rose, seized a broom-handle and began ,to thrash Blaisois, 
exclaiming : 

You have insulted the Church, my friend, — you have 
insulted the Church ! ” 

At this unusual noise Aramis made his appearance, cau- 
tiously opening his bedroom door. 

Bazin now respectfully placed his broom-handle on end, as 
he had seen the Swiss place his halberd at Notre Dame ; and 
Blaisois, with a reproachful glance at the Cerberus, drew the 
letter from his pocket and presented it to Aramis. 

From the Comte de la Fère ? ” said Aramis ; very well.”’ 

And he retired, without even asking the cause of all the 
disturbance. 

Blaisois returned sorrowfully to the Hôtel du Grand Roi ( 


ANOTHER QUEEN WHO ASKS ASSISTANCE. 365 


Charlemagne. Athos inquired whether he had executed his 
commission. Blaisois recounted his adventure. 

Silly fellow ! ” said Athos, laughing. So you did not say 
that you came from me ? 

No, sir.’’ 

“ And what did Bazin say when he found that you were in 
my service ? ” 

Ah, sir, he made me all sorts of excuses, and obliged me 
to drink two glasses of capital Muscat wine in which he made 
me sop three or four excellent biscuits. But, for all that, he is 
a devil of a brute. A beadle ! Fie on him ! ” 

Good,” said Athos ; as Aramis has received my letter, he 
will come at all events.” 

At ten o’clock Athos, with his usual punctuality, was on the 
Louvre bridge. He there met Lord de Winter, who arrived 
at the same time. 

They waited about ten minutes. 

Lord de Winter was beginning to fear that Aramis would 
not come. 

“ Patience,” said Athos, who kept his eyes fixed in the direc- 
tion of the Bue du Bac — “ patience ! Yonder is an abbé, who 
is just giving a cuff to a man and bowing to a woman. That 
must be Aramis.” 

In fact, it was he. A young city fellow, idly gaping, stood 
in his way, and Aramis, whom he had bespattered, had sent 
him ten paces back with a blow of his fist. Almost at the 
same moment one of his fair penitents had passed him, and, as 
she was young and pretty, he had bowed to her with a most 
gracious smile. 

In a moment Aramis was with them. 

There were, as may be imagined, hearty greetings between 
him and Lord de Winter. 

“ Where are we going ? ” asked Aramis ; are we going to 
fight ? Sacrebleu ! I have no sword this morning, and must 
return home to get one.'-” 

‘‘ No,” said De Winter, we are only going to pay a visit to 
her Majesty the Queen of England.” 

“ Ah, very well,” said Aramis. . And what is the object of 
this visit ? ” continued he, bending over to Athos’s ear. 

Faith, I have not the least idea ; perhaps some testimony 
wanted of us.” 

Can it be about that cursed affair ? ” said Aramis. In 


366 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


that case I should not much care to go, for it would be to re- 
ceive an admonition ; and since I have begun to give them to 
others, I do not relish receiving them myself.” 

If that were the case,” replied Athos, we should not be 
conducted to her Majesty by Lord de Winter, for he would 
deserve his share ; he was one of ns.” 

Ah, yes, that is true. Come along, then.” 

Having reached the Louvre, Lord de Winter entered first. 
The door was attended by a single porter only. As it was 
daylight, Athos, Aramis, and the Englishman could perceive 
the frightful nakedness of the dwelling which a niggardly 
charity conceded to the unfortunate queen. Large rooms 
despoiled of their furniture ; dilapidated walls on which shoue, 
here and there, patches of old gilt mouldings which had resisted 
the desolation ; windows that would not shut, and that wanted 
glass ; no carpets, no guards, no lacqueys — this was what first 
attracted Athos’s attention, and he silently pointed it out to 
Aramis by touching him with his elbow. 

Mazarin is better lodged,” said Aramis. 

Mazarin is almost king,” said Athos, “ and Madame Hen- 
rietta is almost no longer a queen.” 

If you would deign to cultivate your wit, Athos,” said 
Aramis, I verily believe that you would have more than that 
poor M. de Voiture.” 

Athos smiled. 

The Queen appeared to have been impatiently awaiting 
their arrival, for at the first sound she heard in the ante- 
chamber, she came to the door to receive the courtiers of 
her distress. 

Enter, and welcome, gentlemen,” said she. 

The gentlemen entered, and at first remained standing ; but 
on a sign which the Queen gave them to sit down, Athos was 
the first to obey her. He was serious and calm ; but Aramis 
was furious. This regal penury had exasperated him ; his eyes 
sought out every fresh proof of the poverty which he dis- 
covered. 

You are observing my luxury,” said the Queen, casting a 
melancholy look around her. 

“ Madame,” replied Aramis, I beg your Majesty’s pardon, 
but I could not restrain my indignation on beholding a 
daughter' of Henry IV. treated in this manner at the French 
Court.” 


ANOTHER QUEEN WHO ASKS ASSISTANCE. 367 


Tins gentleman is not a cavalier, is he ? ” asked the 
Queen, turning to Lord de Winter. 

The gentleman is the Abbé d’Herblay,’^ he replied. 

Aramis coloured. 

“ Madame,” said he, I am an abbé, it is true ; but it is con- 
trary to my inclination. I had no partiality for the little 
collar ; my cassock is only held on by a single button, and I 
am always ready again to become a Musketeer. This morning, 
ignorant that I was to have the honour of seeing your Majesty, 
I muffled myself up in this dress ; but I am not the less a 
man whom your Majesty will find most devoted to your 
service in anything that you may please to command.” 

“ The Chevalier d’Herblay,” said Be Winter, “ is one of 
those valiant Musketeers of his Majesty Louis XIII. of whom 
I spoke to you, madame.” Then turning toward Athos : ‘^This 
gentleman,” he continued, is the noble Comte de la Fère 
whose lofty reputation is so well known to your Majesty.” 

Gentlemen,” said the Queen, some years ago I was sur- 
rounded by nobles, treasures, and armies, and at a wave of 
my hand they w'ere ready to serve me. Now look around 
you — it will doubtless surprise you — but to accomplish a 
plan which may save my life, I have only Lord de Winter, a 
friend of twenty years’ standing, and you, gentlemen, whom I 
now see for the first time, and whom I only know as my com- 
patriots.” 

It is sufficient, madame,” said Aramis, with a low bow, if 
the lives of three men can redeem yours.” 

“ Thank you, gentlemen ; but listen to me,” she continued : 

I am not only the most wretched of queens, but the most 
unhappy of mothers and the most desperate of wives. My 
children, at least two of them, — the Duke of York and the 
Princess Charlotte, — are at a distance from me, exposed to 
the attempts of the ambitious and the machinations of their 
enemies. The King, my husband, drags on such a miserable 
existence in England that it is not saying much when I affirm 
that he seeks death as an alleviation. Here, gentlemen, is a 
letter which my Lord de Winter brought me. Kead it.” 

Athos and Aramis excused themselves. 

“ Read,” said the Queen. 

Athos then read aloud the letter in which, as we have seen, 
Charles asked for the hospitality of France. 

Well ? ” said Athos, when he had finished the perusal. 


368 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Well/’ said the Queen, he has refused it.” 

The two friends exchanged a disdainful smile. 

And now, madame, what must we do ? ” demanded Athos. 

“ Have you, then, some compassion for so much misfortune ? ” 
said the Queen, with emotion. 

I have had the honour of requesting your Majesty to state 
what you wish M. d’Herblay and myself to do for you ; we 
are ready.” 

Ah, sir, you have indeed a noble heart ! ” exclaimed the 
Queen, with a burst of gratitude ; while Lord de Winter looked 
at her as much as to say: 

“ Did I not answer for them ? ” 

“ But you, sir ? ” said the Queen, turning to Aramis. 

I, madame ? ” he replied ; wherever the Count goes, 
were it even unto death, I follow, without asking why ; but 
when your Majesty’s service is the question,” he added, look- 
ing at the Queen with all the grace of his youth, ‘‘ then I pre- 
cede the Count.” 

“ Well, then, gentlemen,” said the Queen, since this is the 
case,^ — since you are willing to serve a poor princess whom 
all the world abandons, — see what I wish you to do for me. 
The King stands alone, with the exception of some gentlemen 
whom he fears to lose any day, in the midst of the Scotch 
whom he distrusts, although he is himself a Scotchman. Since 
Lord de Winter has left him, I am dying with fear for him, 
gentlemen. Well, then, perhaps I require far too much from 
you — for I have, in fact, no right to ask anything : go to 
England, join the King, be his friends, his guardians, march 
by his side in battle, keep near him in the interior of his 
dwelling, where snares are daily laid for him much more 
dangerous than the perils of war; and in exchange for this 
sacrifice which you will make me, gentlemen, I promise — not 
to recompense you, for I believe that the expression would 
wound your feelings, but — to love you as a sister, and to 
prefer you to every one except my husband and children. This 
I swear in the presence of God ! ” 

And the Queen raised her eyes, slowly and solemnly, toward 
heaven. 

Madame,” said Athos, when must we depart ? ” 

Then you consent? ” said the Queen, with great joy. 

“ Yes, madame ; only your Majesty goes too far, I think, in 
engaging to overwhelm us with a friendship far beyond our 


ANOTHER QUEEN WHO ASKS ASSISTANCE. 369 


deserts. We are serving God, madame, by saving a king so 
unfortunate and a queen so virtuous. Madame, we are yours, 
body and soul ! ” 

“ Ah, gentlemen,’’ 'said the Queen, affected even to tears, 
‘‘behold the first moment of joy and hope that I have 
experienced for five years. Yes, you serve God; and since 
my power is far too limited to recompense such a service. He 
wdll reward you — He who reads in my heart all the gratitude 
that I feel for you. Save my husband — save the King ; and 
although you may not see the reward which may redound to 
you on earth for such a noble action, yet let me hope that I 
may see you to thank you for it. In the meantime, I will 
wait. Have you any commission to give me ? I am from this 
moment your friend ; and since you employ yourselves in my 
affairs, I ought to occupy myself with yours.” 

“ Madame,” said Athos, “ I have nothing to ask of your 
Majesty but your prayers.” 

“ And I,” said Aramis, “ am a solitary being in the world : 
I have only to serve your Majesty.” 

The Queen held out her hand to them, which they kissed ; 
and she said to Lord de Winter in a low voice : 

“ If you want money, my Lord, do not hesitate one moment : 
break the jewels I gave you, separate the diamonds from them 
and sell them to a Jew ; they will produce from fifty to sixty 
thousand livres. Spend all, if necessary ; but let these gentle-* 
men be treated as they deserve — that is to say, like kings.” 

The Queen had prepared two letters, one written by herself, 
one by the Princess, her daughter. Both were addressed to 
King Charles. She gave one to Athos and one to Aramis, in 
order that, if any chance should separate them, they might 
be able to make themselves known to the King. They then 
retired. 

At the bottom of the staircase Lord de Winter stopped. 

“You go your way, gentlemen,” said he, “and I will go 
mine, that we may not excite any suspicion ; and this evening, 
at nine o’clock, let us meet at the Porte Saint Denis. We will 
go with my horses as far as they can carry us, and then we 
will take post. Again, my good friends, I thank you — thank 
you in my own name and in the Queen’s.” 

The three gentlemen shook hands, Lord de Winter went 
down the Rue Saint Honoré, and Athos and Aramis remained 
together. 


870 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


‘‘Well,” said Aramis when they were alone, ‘‘what do you 
think of this affair, my dear Count ? ” 

“ A bad one — a very bad one ! ” replied Athos. 

“ But you undertook it with enthusiasm.” 

“ As I shall always undertake the defence of a great princi- 
ple, my dear D’Herblay. Kings can be strong only through 
the nobles, but the nobles can be great only through royalty. 
Let us then support monarchy, for by that means we support 
ourselves.” 

“We shall be assassinated over there,” said Aramis. “I 
hate the English ; they are coarse, as all people are who drink 
beer.” 

“ Why, woidd it be better to remain here,” said Athos, “ and 
to go and take a turn in the Bastille, or in the prison at Vin- 
cennes, for having helped the escape of the Due de Beaufort ? 
Faith ! Aramis, believe me, we have nothing to regret. We 
avoid a prison, and we act as heroes ; the choice is easy.” 

“ It is true ; but under all circumstances it is necessary to 
revert to that first of all questions, — very foolish, I allow, 
yet indispensable, — have you any money ? ” 

“Somewhere about a hundred pistoles, which my farmer 
sent me just as I was leaving Bragelonne. But of that I 
ought to leave about half for Kaoul ; a young gentleman 
must live properly. So I have only about fifty pistoles. And 
you ? ” 

“I ? I am quite certain that, by turning out all my pockets 
and ransacking my drawers, I could not find ten louis. But, 
fortunately. Lord de Winter is rich.” 

“ Lord de Winter is, for the time, actually ruined, for Crom- 
well has taken possession of his revenues.” 

“ See, now, how useful the Baron Borthos would be in this 
case,” said Aramis. 

“ And now do I regret D’Artagnan ! ” said Athos. 

“ What a fat purse ! ” 

“ What a powerful sword !” ! 

“ Let us entice them away. ” j 

“ This secret is not ours, Aramis ; believe me, we must not i 
admit any one to our confidence. Besides, by such a step we ! 
should appear to lack confidence in ourselves. Let us lament i 
this to each other, but speak of it to no one else.” . i 

“ You are right. What are you going to do from now till I 
evening ? I am obliged to put off two things^” ' 


ANOTHER QUEEN WHO ASKS ASSISTANCE. 371 


‘‘ And are they things which can be put off ? ’’ 

“ Forsooth ! they must be.’’ 

And what are they ? ” 

“ First, a sword-thrust to the coadjutor, whom I met last 
evening at Madame Kambouillet’s, and whpm I found assum- 
ing a very singular tone toward me.” 

Fie ! a duel between priests — a quarrel between allies ! ” 

What would you have, my dear ? He is a fighter — so am 
I. He runs about the streets — so do I also. His cassock 
encumbers him, and I have quite enough of mine, I believe. 
I verily believe, sometimes, that he is Aramis and that I am 
the coadjutor, we so much resemble each other. This species 
of Sosia annoys and reduces me to a shadow. I am quite 
convinced that if I gave him a slap, as I did to that youngster 
who bespattered me this morning, it would change the face of 
affairs.” 

^^And I, my dear Aramis,” quietly resj)onded Athos, am of 
opinion that it would only change M. de Retz’s face ; there- 
fore leave things as they are. Besides, you are neither of you 
your own masters ; you belong to the Queen of England, and 
he to the Fronde. So, if your second affair, which you regret 
that you cannot accomplish, be not of more consequence than 
the first ” — 

Oh ! that is very important.” 

Then execute it immediately.” 

Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to perform it at what- 
ever hour I please. It was for the evening — late in the 
evening.” 

1 understand,” said' Athos, smiling ; at midnight.” 

About that time.” 

“ Why, my dear fellow ! Such an affair as that may be 
deferred, and you will defer it, especially when you have such 
an excuse to give on your return.” 

Yes, if I should return.” 

If you do not return, what difference does it make to you ? 
Therefore be a little reasonable. Come, Aramis, you are no 
longer a boy qf twenty, my friend.” 

Much to my sorrow, mortdieu ! Ah, if I were only 
twenty ! ” « 

Yes, and I believe you would commit a precious number 
of follies,” said Athos. But we must separate. I have one 
or two visits to pay and a letter to write. Come, then, to take 


3T2 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


me up at eight o’clock ; or do you prefer my expecting you to 
supper at seven ? ” 

‘^Very well. I have twenty visits to make and as many 
letters to write.” 

And upon this . they separated. Athos paid a visit to 
Madame de Vendôme, left his card with the Duchesse de 
Chevreuse, and wrote the following letter to D’Artagnan : 

Dear Friend : 

‘‘ I am now setting off with Aramis on an important affair. 

I would hid you farewell, but have no time. Do not forget 
that I write to tell you how much I love you. 

Raoul is gone to Blois, and does not know of my departure. 
Watch over him as much as you can during my absence ; and 
should you by chance hear nothing of me for three months, tell 
him to open a sealed packet, addressed to him, which he will 
find at Blois, in my bronze casket, of which I send you the 
key. 

^^Embrace Porthos for Aramis and for myself. Au revoir ! 
perhaps adieu ! ” 

And he sent the letter by Blaisois. 

At the appointed hour Aramis arrived. He was dressed as 
a cavalier, and had at his side that good old sword which he 
had so often drawn, and which he was more than ever ready 
to draw. I 

“ There now ! ” said he, I decidedly think that we are 
wrong to go off in this manner, without a word of farewell to 
Porthos and D’Artagnan.” 

“ The thing is done, my dear friend,” said Athos ; I have | 
provided for that. I have saluted them, both for you and my- 
self.” 

You are an admirable man, my dear Count,” said Aramis ; 
^^you think of everything.” 

‘‘ Well, now, are you reconciled to this journey ?” 

Entirely so ; and, now that I have thought it over, I am 
glad to leave Paris at this moment.” 

“ And so am I,” replied Athos. ‘‘ I only regret that I have 
not embraced D’Artagnan ; but the demon is so sly that he 
would have guessed our projects.” 

When supper was over, Blaisois entered. 

Sir,” said he, here is M. D’Artagnan’s answer.” 


v>7i 

ANOTHER QUEEN WHO ASKS ASSISTANCi^. 

But did I not tell you that it required no answer« vOv 
fool ? ’’ said Athos. 

And so I went off without waiting for one ; but he called 
me back and gave me this.” And he handed Athos a little 
leather bag, round and metallic-sounding. 

Athos opened it,, and first drew out a small note couched in 
these terms : 

“ Afy dear Count : 

When any one travels, and especially for three months, one 
never has enough of money. Now, I remember our days of 
poverty, and send you half my purse ; it is the money that I 
succeeded in sweating out of Mazar in ; therefore do 7iot make 
too had a use of it, I beg of you. 

As to not seeing you again, I do not believe a tvord of it. 
With such a sword and such a heart as you have, you inust 
make your way through anything. 

So au revoir and not adieu. 

It is superfluous to say tha^ from the first day that I saw 
Raoul, I loved him as if he was my oiun child ; yet believe me 
that I sincerely pray God that I may not become his father, 
although I should be proud of such a son. 

Your Artagnan. 

P.S. It is, of course, understood that the fifty louis which 
I send belong to you as well as to Aramns, and to Aramis as 
well as to youl^ 

Athos smiled, and his beautiful eyes were dimmed by a tear. 
D’Artagnan, whom he had loved so tenderly, then still loved 
him — devoted though he was to Mazarin. 

‘‘ By my faith, here are fifty louis,” said Aramis, pouring 
them on the table, all with the effigy of Louis XIII. Well, 
what will you do with this money. Count ? Do you mean to 
keep or return it ? ” 

I shall keep it, Aramis ; and even if I did not need it, I 
should keep it. What is so generously offered should be as 
generously accepted. Take twenty-five, Aramis, and give me 
the other five-and-twenty.” 

Very good. I am glad that you agree with me. There, 
now, let us be off.” 

“ When you please. But have you no servant ? ” 

\ No ; that ass of a Bazin has had the folly to become a 
beadle, as you know, so that he cannot leave Notre Dame.” 


374 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Very well, then you shall take Blaisois, for I do not know 
what to do with him, as I already have Grimaud.” 

Willingly,” said Aramis. 

At that moment Grimaud appeared at the door. 

Ready,” said he, with his usual brevity. 

Let us start, then,” said Athos. 

The horses, ready saddled, were awaiting them. The two 
friends mounted, as did the lacqueys. At the corner of the 
quay they met Bazin, running and out of breath. 

Ah, sir,” said he, God be praised ! I am in time.” 

What is the matter ? ” 

M. Porthos has just left the house, and left this for you, 
saying that it was of great consequence and must be delivered 
before your departure.” 

Good,” said Aramis, taking a purse which Bazin held out 
to him ; “ what is this ? ” 

“ Stop, M. PAbbe ; there is also a letter.” 

You know that I told you if you called me anything but 
Chevalier I would break your bones ! Give me the letter.” 

How will you read it ? ” said Athos ; it is as dark as an 
oven.” 

“Wait,” said Bazin; and striking his steel he lighted a 
small twisted taper, which he used for lighting his candles. 

By the light of this taper Aramis read : 

“ My dear D^Herhlay : 

“ / hear from Artagnan, who saluted me from you and the 
Comte de la Fere, that you are going on an expedition that 
may last two or three months. As I know that you do not like 
asking aid of your friends^ I offer it to you. I send two hun- 
dred pistoles f 'Which you may use and return whenever it may 
he convenient. Do not fear that you are incommoding me ; if 
I want money y I will send for it from one of my chateaux ; 
at BracieuXy alone y I have twenty thousand livres in gold. So 
if I do not send you any morey it is because I fear that you 
ivould not accept of a larger sum. 

write to you because you know that the Comte de la 
Fere somewhat overawes me, in spite of myself y although I 
love him with all my heart ; but of course you understand 
that what I offer to you I at the same time offer to him. 

“ J aiiiy as I hope you well know, your most devoted 

“ Du Vallon de Bracieux de Fierrefonds.^^ 


THE FIRST IMPULSE IS ALWAYS THE BEST. 375 


Well/’ said Aramis, what do you say to that ? ” 

“ I say, my dear D’Herblay, that it is almost sacrilege to 
doubt Providence when one has such friends.” 

‘‘ Therefore ” — 

Therefore let us share Porthos’s pistoles, as we have shared 
D’Artagnan’s louis.” 

The division being made by the light of Bazin’s taper, the 
two friends pursued their journey. 

A quarter of an hour later they were at the Porte Saint 
Denis, where Lord de Winter met them. 


CHAPTER XLV. 

IN WHICH IT IS PROVED THAT THE FIRST IMPULSE IS ALWAYS 
THE BEST. 

The three gentlemen took the Picardie road ; that road so 
well known to them recalled to Athos and Aramis some of the 
most picturesque recollections of their youth. 

If Mousqueton were with us,” said Athos, on reaching the 
spot where they had the dispute with the paviours, how he 
would shudder on passing by this place ! Do you recollect, 
Aramis ? It was here that he was struck by that famous 
ball.” 

Faith, and I would permit him to do so,” said Aramis ; 

for I feel myself shuddering at the recollection. There, 
just beyond that tree, is a little spot where I verily thought I 
was dying.” 

They continued their journey. It was soon Grimaud’s turn 
to ransack his memory. Having reached the front of the inn 
where he and his master had enjoyed such an enormous ban- 
quet, he went up to Athos, and, pointing to the air-hole of the 
cellar, said to him : 

“ Sausages ! ” 

Athos began to laugh ; and that folly of his youth appeared 
to him as amusing as if any one had related it of another 
person. 

After a journey of two days and a night they reached 
Boulogne, on a most beautiful evening. It was then compara- 
tively a deserted town, entirely built on the height. What 



376 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


is now called the lower town was not then in existence. Bon- 
logne occupied a formidable position. 

On reaching the. gates of the town : 

Gentlemen,” said De Winter, let us here separate, as we 
did in Paris, to avoid suspicion. I know a tavern which is 
but little frequented, but the master of which is wholly de- 
voted to me. I will go there, for I expect to find some letters 
waiting for me. But do you go to the first tavern in the town, 
— V Epée du Grand Henri, for instance, — there refresh your- 
selves, and in two hours proceed to the jetty ; our boat should 
be waiting for us there.” 

Matters being thus arranged. Lord de Winter proceeded 
along the exterior boulevards, to enter by another gate, while 
the two friends went in by the one where they were ; about 
two hundred yards farther on they found the tavern indicated. 

They baited their horses without having them unsaddled. 
The lacqueys supped, for it was beginning to grow late ; and 
the two masters, very impatient to embark, ordered them to 
follow them to the jetty, with strict injunctions not to ex- 
change a single word with any one whatever. It may be 
readily imagined that this order referred to Blaisois only ; for 
as regarded Grimaud, it had for a long time been superfluous. 

Athos and Aramis went down to the harbour. 

By their dust-covered dress, and by a certain air of careless 
ease which always distinguishes men accustomed to travel, the 
two friends attracted the attention of some loungers. 

They saw one, more particularly, on whom their arrival 
seemed to make some impression. This man, who had first 
attracted their attention for the same reason that had drawn 
on them the observation of others, was walking up and down i 
the jetty with a melancholy air ; but from the moment that he 
saw them he did not cease to regard them attentively, and 
seemed to be most anxious to address them. 

He was young and pale, with eyes of such a doubtful blue 
that they appeared to contract and dilate like those of a tiger, 
according to the colours they reflected. His gait, in spite of 
the slowness and irregularity of his pace, was stiff and formal. 
He was dressed in black, and had a long sword, which he 
carried gracefully enough. 

Having reached the jetty, Athos and Aramis stopped to look 
at a small boat moored to a post, and already prepared as if | 
it was waiting for some one. 


THE FIRST IMPULSE IS ALWAYS THE BEST. 377 


It is ours, no doubt,” said Atlios. 

“ Yes,” said Aramis ; and the sloop yonder, with her sails 
set, looks as if it was the one that is to carry us to our desti- 
nation. Noav,” he continued, I hope De Winter will not 
make us wait ; it is not very amusing to remain here — there is 
not a single woman to be seen.” 

Hush ! ” said Athos ; ^^some one is listening.” 

In fact, while the two friends were making their examina- 
tion, the gentleman who had been walking up and down be- 
hind them suddenly stopped when Lord de Winter’s name 
was mentioned ; but as his countenance betrayed no emotion 
on hearing this name, he might have stopped entirely by 
chance. 

Gentlemen,” said the young man, bowing with much ease 
and politeness, “ pardon my curiosity, but I perceive that you 
are come from Paris, or, at least, that you are strangers to 
Boulogne.” 

“ Yes, sir, we are come from Paris,” replied Athos, with 
equal courtesy ; is there anything we can do for you ? ” 

“ Sir,” said the young man, would you be so kind as to tell 
me if it is true that Cardinal Mazarin is no longer minister ? ” 

“ That is a singular question,” said Aramis. 

He is, and he is not,” replied Athos ; that is to say, while 
one-half of France rejects him, he, by means of intrigue and 
promises, causes himself to be supported by the other half; 
and that may last some time, you see.” 

“ Then, sir,” continued the stranger, he is neither a fugi- 
tive nor in prison.” 

No, sir; not at present, at any rate.” 

Gentlemen, accept my thanks for your politeness,” said the 
young man, taking his departure. 

“ And what do you think of this inquisitive person ? ” asked 
Aramis. 

Why, that he is either a countryman who does not know 
what to do with himself, or a spy seeking information.” 

“ And yet you answered him in this manner ! ” 

Nothing would have justified me in answering him other- 
wise. He was polite to me, and I was the same to him.” 

“ But yet, if he was a spy ” — 

And what can a spy do ? We are no longer living in the 
times of Cardinal Bichelieu, who closed the ports, even on a 
simple suspicion.” 


378 


twbntÿ years after. 


Still, you were wrong in answering him as you did,^’ said 
Aramis, following the young man with his eyes until he had 
disappeared behind the sand-hills along the shore. 

“ And you,” said Athos, forgot that you were very impru- 
dent in mentioning Lord de Winter’s name. Do you forget 
that when he heard that name the young man stopped ? ” 
For which reason you were more especially bound to tell 
him to go about his business, when he addressed you.” 

“ A quarrel ? ” said Athos. 

And how long is it since a quarrel has frightened you ? ” 

A quarrel always alarms me when I anr expected any- 
where, and when the quarrel may prevent my reaching the 
place. Besides, shall I confess one thing to you ? I also was 
curious to have a near view of that young man.” 

And why so ? ” 

Aramis, perhaps you will laugh at me, you will say that I 
am always harping on the same string, and that I am the most 
timid of visionaries.” 

Well ? ” 

“ Whom do you think that young man resembles ? ” 

In ugliness or in beauty ? ” asked Aramis. 

In ugliness, so far as a man can resemble a woman.” 

“ Ah, pardieu ! ” exclaimed Aramis; you make me think. 
No, my dear friend, you are no visionary ; and now that I 
reflect — yes, you are actually right ; that mouth, delicate 
and compressed, those eyes, which appear always to follow the 
emotions of the soul and not of the heart, — he is one of 
milady’s bastards.” 

And you laugh, Aramis ? ” 

Merely from habit, that is all ; for I protest that I should not 
relish, any more than you would, to meet that snake in my path.” , 
Ah, there comes De Winter now,” said Athos. 

Good ! ” cried Aramis ; only one thing is now wanting — 
we shall have to wait for our lacqueys.” 

No,” said Athos, I can see them ; they are following his 
Lordship. I can distinguish Grimaud by his stiff way of hold- 
ing his head and by his long legs ; and Tony is carrying our 
carbines.” j 

So are we going to embark at night ? ” exclaimed Aramis. 
casting a glance at the west, where the sun had left nothing; 
but a golden cloud, which appeared gradually to be extinguished! 
as it sank into the sea. 


‘ THE FIRST IMPULSE IS ALWAYS THE BEST. 379 

j 

j It is most probable/’ replied Athos. 

The devil ! ” replied Aramis. I like the sea little enough 
j by day, but still less at night. The roar of the waves, the 
howling of the winds, the horrible motion of the vessel, — I 
confess that I should prefer the monastery at Noisy.” 

. Athos smiled in his melancholy way ; for while he was listen- 
ing to what his friend said, he was evidently thinking of some- 
thing else. He went towards De Winter, and Aramis followed. 

What is the matter with our friend ? ” exclaimed Aramis ; 
“ he looks like one of Dante’s damned, whose neck Satan has 
twisted round till his nose is over his heels. What the plague 
is he looking back at so earnestly ? ” 

On perceiving them Lord de Winter quickened his pace, 
and came up to them with remarkable rapidity. 

‘‘ What is the matter with you, my Lord ? ” inquired Athos, 
and what has put you so much out of breath?” 

Nothing,” replied De Winter, nothing ; and yet I fancied 
that on passing near those sand-hills ” — 

And he again turned round. 

Athos looked at Aramis. 

i But let us be off,” continued De Winter ; let us be off. 
The boat must be waiting for us, and yonder is our sloop at 
anchor. You can see it from hence. I wish I was on board 
of her.” 

And he again turned round. 

Ah,” said Aramis, have you forgotten something ? ” 
^Œo, I was worried a little.” 

I He saw him,” said Athos to Aramis in a low voice, 
j They had reached the steps that led to the boat. De Winter 

I first made the lacqueys go down with the arms ; the porters 
followed with the luggage ; and then he himself began to de- 
scend. 

At that moment Athos perceived on the seashore, parallel 
to the jetty, a man who quickened his pace as if anxious to be 
a witness of their embarkation at the other side of the harbour, 
distant about twenty yards. In the midst of the descending 
shadows, Athos fancied he could recognise the young man who 
had accosted them. 

Oh, ho,” said he, can he really be a spy, and would he 
oppose our embarkation ? ” 

But if this was really the stranger’s intention, it was now 
somewhat too late to put it into execution, and Athos de- 


380 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


scended the stairs ; but he did not lose sight of the young man, 
who, to make a short cut, had got on a sluice-gate. 

He really has a design on us,” said Athos ; but neverthe- 
less let us embark ; and once out at sea, let him come if he 
will.” 

And Athos leaped into the boat, which was immediately cast 
loose from its moorings, and began to leave the jetty under the 
impulse of four strong rowers. 

But the young man followed, or rather preceded, the boat, 
which was obliged to pass between the end of the jetty com- 
manded by the lantern which had just been lighted and a rock 
that jutted out. They saw him climb up the rock, so as to 
stand above the boat as she was passing. 

“ Ah, ha,” said Aramis to Athos ; that young man is 
certainly a spy.” 

What young man ? ” asked Lord de Winter, turning round. 

« Why, he who followed us, who spoke tous, and who is now 
waiting for us yonder.” 

He Winter turned and looked in the direction Aramis 
pointed. The lantern illumined the little strait through which 
they were just about to pass, as well as the rock on which the 
young man was standing, with bare head and arms folded. 

It is he ! ” exclaimed Lord de Winter, seizing Athos’s arm, 
— it is he ! I fancied that I saw him, and I was not mis- 
taken.” 

“And who is he ?” asked Aramis. 

“ Milady’s son ! ” rejjlied Athos. 

“ The monk ! ” cried Grim and. 

The young man heard these words. It even seemed as if he 
was going to throw himself over, so close did he stand to the 
very edge of the rock, bending over the sea. 

“ Yes, it is I, uncle, — I, Milady’s son, — I, the monk, — I, 
the secretary and friend of Cromwell ! And I know you — 
you and your companions.” 

There were in that boat three men who were certainly brave, 
and whose courage no one would have dared to impugn ; yet 
at that voice, at that accent, at that gesture, they felt the cold 
shudder of terror run through their veins. And Grimaud’s 
hair actually bristled on his head, and the perspiration trickled 
from his brow. 

“ Ah ! ” said Aramis, “ is that your nephew, is that the monk, 
is that Milady’s son, as he says ? ” 


‘ THE FIRST IMPULSE IS ALWAYS THE BEST. 381 

“ Alas ! it is so,” inurmiired De Winter. 

I Well, then, wait,” said Arainis. 

And with that terrible coolness which he exhibited on all 
great emergencies, he seized one of the mushets that Tony 
I held, cocked it, and took a steady aim at the man, who 
I remained standing on the rock like the angel of malediction. 

‘^Eire ! ” cried Grimaud, carried away by his feelings, 
j Athos threw himself on the barrel of the musket and 
! prevented the shot being fired. 

I The devil take you ! ” cried Aramis ; I had him com- 
i pletely at my mercy ! I should have hit him full in the 
! heart.” 

i “ It is quite enough to have killed the mother,” said Athos 
in a hollow voice. 

The mother was a wretch, who had attacked us all, either 
personally or through those we loved.” 

Yes, but the son has not injured us in any manner.” 

I Grimaud, who had risen to see the effect of the shot, fell 
i back in utter despair, clasping his hands. 

The young man burst into a fit of laughter. 

I “ Ah, and it is really you ! ” he cried ; it is really you ! 
Now I know you ! ” 

His harsh laugh and threatening words passed over the 
boat, borne along by the breeze, and were lost amid the deep 
shades of the horizon. 

Aramis shuddered. 

Be calm,” said Athos. What ! are we no longer men ? ” 

Yes,” replied Aramis ; but that is a demon ; and just 
I ask the uncle if I should have been wrong in relieving him of 
; his dear nephew.” 

De Winter only answered by a sigh. 

^^All would have been over,” continued Aramis. “Ah! I 
much fear, Athos, that yon made me do a foolish thing, with 
your wisdom.” 

Athos took Lord de Winters hand, and, endèavouring to turn 
the conversation : “ When shall we reach England ? ” he asked. 

But Lord de Winter did not hear his words, and did not 
I reply. 

“ Here, Athos,” said Aramis, “ perhaps there would still be 
time. See, he is still in the same place.” 

Athos turned with reluctance. The sight of this young 
man was evidently painful to him. In fact, he was still stand- 


382 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


ing on the rock, the light from the lantern forming a sort of 
halo around him. 

“ But what is he doing at Boulogne ? demanded Athos, 
who, being so deep a reasoner, always sought for the cause, 
caring but little about the effect. 

He was following me — he was following me,’’ said He 
Winter, who this time heard Athos’s voice, which now cor- 
responded with his thoughts. 

“ To follow you, my friend,” said Athos, it would have 
been necessary for him to be aware of our departure ; and 
moreover, on the contrary, he in all probability preceded us.” 

^^Then I cannot understand anything about it,” said the 
Englishman, shaking his head like a man who thinks it useless 
to endeavour to struggle against a supernatural power. 

Positively, Aramis,” said Athos, “ I begin to think that I 
was wrong in not letting you do as you wished.” 

“ Hold your tongue,” said Aramis ; you would make me 
cry, if I could.” 

Grimaud emitted a dull, grumbling sound, like a roar. 

At this moment the boat was hailed from the sloop. The 
pilot, who was seated at the helm, replied, and the boat 
approached the vessel. 

Men, lacqueys, and baggage were instantly on board. The 
master was only waiting for his passengers to sail ; and 
scarcely had they set foot on deck before the schooner’s head 
was turned toward Hastings, where they were to land. 

At this moment the three friendS' involuntarily cast a last 
look at the rock, where the contour of the threatening shadow 
that pursued them was still visiMy defined. 

Then a voice, even now, reached them, bearing with it this 
last threat : 

“We shall meet in England, gentlemen ! ” 


CHAPTER XL VI. 

THE TE DEUM FOR THE VICTORY AT LENS. 

All that commotion which Queen Henrietta had observed, 
and the cause of which she vainly sought, was occasioned by 
the tidings of the victory of Lens, of which M. le Prince had 
made the Due de Chatillon the bearer. The Duke had dis- 


" TUK TE DEUM FOR THE VICTORY AT LENS. 383 

tingiiished himself greatly in the affair ; and he was, besides, 
ordered to suspend from the ceiling of Notre Dame twenty-two 
standards taken from the Lorrainers and the Spaniards. 

This news was decisive, and at once determined, in favour 
of the Court, the quarrel begun with the Parliament. All the 
imposts so summarily registered, and which the Parliament 
had opposed, had always been demanded for the ostensible 
purpose of upholding the honour of France, and with the for- 
tuitous hope of beating the enemy. But since Noi'dlingen, 
the army had only met with reverses; and the Parliament 
had therefore openly questioned Mazarin respecting the vic- 
tories so often promised, yet always deferred. Now, however, 
the troops had at last been engaged ; they had triumphed, and 
their triumph was complete. So every one understood that 
this was a double victory for the Court — a victory in the 
interior as well as on the frontiers ; so much so that even the 
young King, on hearing the news, exclaimed : 

Ah ! gentlemen of the Parliament, we shall now see what 
yon will say ! ” 

Whereupon the Queen pressed to her bosom the royal child, 
whose haughty and indomitable sentiments accorded so well 
with her own. A council was held the same evening, to which 
Marshal de la Meilleraie and M. de Villeroy had been sum- 
moned, because they adhered to Mazarin: Chavigny and Se- 
guier, because they hated the Parliament ; and Guitaut and 
Comminges, because they were devoted to the Queen. 

The decision of the council had not transpired. It was 
only known that on the following Sunday a Te Deum 
would be chanted at Notre Dame to celebrate the victory 
of Lens. 

On the following Sunday, therefore, the Parisians awoke in 
high spirits. A Te Deum was, at that time, a grand affair ; this 
kind of ceremony had not then been abused, and it was effective. 
The sun seemed to share in the festival ; it rose brilliantly 
and gilded the dark towers of the metropolis, already filled 
with an immense multitude of people ; the most obscure streets 
of the City had assumed a holiday air, and all along the quays, 
endless throngs of citizens and artisans, of women and children, 
j were seen going toward Notre Dame, like a river rushing back 
I to its source. 

I The shops were deserted, the houses were shut ; every one 
wished to see the young King and his mother, and the famous 


384 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Cardinal Mazarin, whom they hated so much that no one 
liked to miss seeing him. 

Besides, the greatest liberty reigned amid this vast assem- 
blage. Every tone of opinion was openly expressed, and, so to 
speak, rang insurrection even as the thousand bells of the Paris- 
ian churches rang for the Te Deum. The police being under 
the control of the City itself, nothing threatening disturbed 
the concert of universal hatred, or froze the bitter words in 
slanderous mouths. 

Nevertheless, at eight o’clock in the morning the regiment 
of the Queen’s Guards, commanded by Guitaut, with Com- 
minges, his nephew, as his lieutenant, had, with drums and 
trumpets at their head, been drawn up en échelon from the 
Palais Royal to Notre Dame — a manoeuvre which the Paris- 
ians had regarded with tranquillity, for they always delight in 
military music and glittering uniforms. 

Friquet was in his Sunday best ; and under the pretence of an 
inflammatory swelling, which he had brought about temporarily 
by introducing a vast number of cherry-stones into one corner of 
his mouth, he had obtained from Bazin, his superior, leave of 
absence for the whole day. 

Bazin had at first refused this leave, for Bazin was in bad 
humour : first, because Aramis had departed without telling 
him where he was going ; and, next, because he was to attend 
a Mass celebrated on account of a victory that did not accord 
with his own opinions. Bazin was a Frondeur, it must be 
remembered ; and if there had been any means by which the 
absence of a beadle could have been as easily effected as that 
of a simple choir boy on such a solemn occasion, he would cer- 
tainly have sent a request to the Archbishop similar to that 
which had just been made to himself. He had, therefore, as 
we have said, at first refused Friquet’s application ; but the 
inflammatory swelling had,' even in Bazin’s presence, increased 
so much in size that, for the honour of the body of choir boys 
which would have been compromised by such a deformity, he 
had finally given a grumbling assent. At the church door Fri- 
quet had spit out his inflammatory swelling, ^and, at the same 
time, made in Bazin’s direction one of those impudent gestures 
that establish the superiority of the Parisian gamin to all 
the gamins in the universe. His duties at the tavern he had 
naturally enough got rid of by alleging that he was serving at 
a Mass at Notre Dame. 


THE TE BEUM FOR THE VICTORY AT LENS. 385 


So Friquet was free, and, as we have said, had clothed him- 
self ill his most sumptuous garb ; he had, more especially, as a 
remarkable oriiameiit of his person, one of those indescribable 
caps which hold an intermediate rank between the bonnet of 
the middle age and the hat of Louis XIII. This curious head- 
piece had been fabricated for him by his mother, who either 
from caprice or from a want of uniform materials, had, in mak- 
ing it, shown herself so slightly attached to the harmony of 
colours that this masterpiece of the haberdashery of the seven- 
! teenth century was yellow and green on one side, and white 
; and red on the other. But Friquet, who had always loved 
i variety in tones, was only the more proud of it, and the more 
triumphant. 

On leaving Bazin, Friquet set off, as hard as he could run, 
toward the Palais Eoyal, which he reached just as the regi- 
ment of Guards was coming out ; and as he went expressly to 
enjoy the sight and to hear the music, he took his place at 
their head, beating the time with two pieces of slate, and 
j occasionally changing from this exercise to that of the trumpet, 
' which he imitated naturally with his mouth — in such a way, 

I indeed, as had more than once gained for him praises from 
I lovers of imitative harmony. 

I This amusement lasted from the Barrier des Sergents to the 
Place Xotre Dame, and Friquet thoroughly enjoyed it. But 
when the regiment halted, and the companies, in opening out, 
penetrated even to the heart of the City, resting on the end of 
the Rue Saint Christophe, almost to the Rue Cocatrix, where 
Broussel lived, then Friquet, remembering that he had not 
breakfasted, began to consider in what direction he could best 
turn in order to accomplish this important business of the day; 

’ and having reflected seriously, he decided that the Councillor 
Brousell should bear the expense of his repast. 

Consequently, away he went, reached the councillor’s door 
quite out of breath, and knocked loudly. 

His mother, Broussel’s old servant, opened the door. 

‘‘ What are you doing here, you good-for-nothing ? ” said 
she, and why are you not at Notre Dame ? ” 

I was there. Mère Nanette,” said Friquet, but I saw that 
some things were taking place that our Master Broussel ought 
■ to know, and with M. Bazin’s leave — you know M. Bazin, the 
I beadle. Mère Nanette ? — I am come to speak with M. 
Broussel.” 


386 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


And what do you want to say to M. Broussel, yoi- booby ? ” 

I wish to speak to him myself.’^ 

That is impossible ; he is busy.’’ 

“ Then I will wait,” said Friquet, whom this plan suited all 
the better, as he would take care to make good use of his 
tipie. 

And he climbed the stairs rapidly, while Dame Nanette fol- 
lowed him more slowly. 

“ But, tell me, what do you want with M. Broussel ? ” said 
she. 

I want to tell him,” replied Friquet, bawling as loud as he 
could, that the whole regiment of Guards is come into this 
quarter. Now, as I have everywhere heard that there is ill- 
will against him at Court, I came to warn him, that he may 
put himself upon his guard.” 

Broussel heard the young rascal’s loud voice, and, delighted 
at his excess of zeal, he came down to the first story ; for he 
really was at work in his cabinet on the second floor. 

Ah, my friend,” said he, what is the regiment of Guards 
to us ? and are you not a simpleton to make such a fuss ? Do 
you not know that it is usual to act as these gentlemen are 
doing, and that this regiment always lines the King’s route ? ” 

Friquet feigned astonishment, and twisting his new cap in 
his hands, he said: 

It is not surprising that you know this, M. Broussel, — you, 
who know everything ; but in God’s truth I didn’t know it ! 
I thought I was giving you some good advice ; you ought not to 
be angry with me for it. Monsieur Broussel.” 

Quite the contrary, my boy, quite the contrary; and your 
zeal pleases me. Dame Nanette, look for some of those apri- 
cots that Madame de Longueville sent us yesterday from Noisy, 
and give half a dozen of them, with a slice of nice bread, to 
your son.” 

Ah ! thank you. Monsieur Broussel,” said Friquet, “ thank 
you ; I am very fond of apricots.” 

Broussel then went to his wife and called for breakfast. It 
was half-past .nine. The councillor took his place near the 
window. The street was completely deserted ; but at a dis- 
tance was heard, like the noise of the rising tide, the vast mur- 
mur of the popular waves, which were already accumulating 
round Notre Dame. 

This noise redoubled when D’Artagnan came with a com-. 


THE TE DEUM FOR THE VICTORY AT LENS. 387 


pany of Musketeers, and stood at the doors of Notre Dame to 
guard the service of the church. He had told Porthos to take 
advantage of the opportunity to witness the ceremony ; aud 
Porthos, in grand costume and mounted on his handsomest 
horse, was doing the part of an honorary Musketeer, as D’Ai- 
tagnan himself had formerly done. The sergeant of this com- 
pany, an old soldier of the Spanish wars, who had recognised 
in Porthos an ancient comrade, had soon imparted to thos- 
under his command the wonderful exploits of this giant, the 
pride of M. de Tréville’s ancient Musketeers. Porthos had, 
therefore, not only been well received by the company, but had 
even been regarded with admiration. 

At ten o’clock the cannon of the Louvre announced tbe 
King’s departure. A movement, like that of trees the tops o ' 
which are bent and tossed by a strong wind, ran through the 
multitude, which weaved backward and forward behind the 
motionless muskets of the Guards. At last the King appeared, 
with the Queen, in a gilded carriage. Ten other carriages fol- 
lowed, filled with the ladies of honour, the officers of the royal 
household, and the whole Court. 

“ Vive le roi ! ” was the universal cry. 

The young King gravely put his head out of the coach door, 
looked sufficiently grateful, and even bowed slightly ; this 
caused the shouts of the multitude to redouble. 

The procession advanced very slowly, and took nearly half 
an hour to pass over the distance between the Louvre and the 
Place Notre Dame. Having reached this spot, it gradually 
entered beneath the vast roof of the sombre cathedral, and the 
solemn service began. 

Just as the Court was taking its place, a carriage with the 
arms of Comminges left the line of the Court carriages and 
came slowly to the end of the now deserted Rue Saint Chris- 
tophe, where it stopped. Here four Guards and an officer, 
who escorted it, entered the cumbrous vehicle and closed its 
blinds ; then through a chink, carefully arranged, the officer 
began to look down the Rue Cocatrix, as if he expected some 
one. 

Every one was occupied with the ceremony, so that neither 
the carriage nor the precautions taken by those who were in 
it were observed. Friquet, with ever-watchful eye, the only 
one who could have got hold of the mystery, had gone to eat 
his apricots on the cornice of a house fronting Notre Dame 5 


388 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


iV; there he saw the King, the Queen, and Mazarin, and 
lie:' d the Mass as well as if he had been taking part in it. 

'i oward the end of the service, the Queen, seeing that Coin- 
niiiyges was standing near, waiting for the confirmation of an 
ord r that she had already given him before leaving the Louvre, 
sa‘" i to him in a low voice : 

» Go, Comminges, and may God prosper you ! ’’ 

Comminges immediately left the church and went down the 
K"; Saint Christophe. 

'^’riquet, who saw this handsome official marching along fol- 
10' . ed by two Guards, amused himself by following him 5 and 
hr did this with greater pleasure, as the ceremony was just 
e* I Ling and the King was returning to his carriage. 

Scarcely had the officer seen Comminges make his appearance 
u the end of the street before he gave an order to the coach- 
1110,11, who instantly set his machine in motion and stopped it 
in front of BrousseFs house. 

Comminges knocked at the door at the same moment as the 
carriage stopped at it. 

Briquet waited behind Comminges for the opening of the 
door. 

“ What are you doing here, you rascal ? ” asked Com- 
minges. 

I am waiting to go into Maître BrousseFs, officer,” replied 
Briquet, in that tone of simplicity which a Parisian gamin 
knows so well how to assume when it suits his purpose. 

Then he really lives here ? ” said Comminges. 

Yes, sir.” 

‘‘ And which story does he occupy ? ” 

^^The whole house,” replied Briquet ; “ the house is his own.” 

But where does he generally stay ? ” 

When he is working he is mostly on the second story ; but 
he goes down to the first floor to take his meals ; and at this 
time he must be at dinner, for it is twelve o’clock.” 

Good,” said Comminges. 

At this moment the door was opened. The officer questioned 
the lacquey, and learned that Maître Broussel was at home, 
and was, in fact, at dinner. Comminges therefore went up 
behind the lacquey, and Briquet went up behind Comminges. 

Broussel was seated at table with his family, having his wife 
opposite him, his tAvo daughters one on each side of him, and 
at the end of the table his son Bouvières. The councillor, by 


THE TE I)EUM roR THE VICTORY AT LENS. 389 


the way, was entire'; 7 recovered from his accident. The good 
man, restored to peri'ect health, was tasting the line fruit that 
Madame de Longueville had sent him. 

Comminges, having stopped the lacquey from announcing 
him, opened the door himself, and found himself in the pres- 
ence of this family party. 

On seeing the officer, Broussel felt himself somewhat agi- 
tated ; but observing that he bowed politely, he arose and 
bowed also. 

Nevertheless, in spite of this reciprocal politeness, anxiety 
was painted on the faces of the women. Louvières turned 
very pale, and waited impatiently for the officer’s explanation. 

Sir,” said Comminges, I am the bearer of an order from 
the King.” 

Very well, sir,” said Broussel ; what is the order ? ” 

And he held out his hand. 

I am ordered to arrest you, sir,” replied Comminges, in the 
same tone, with the same politeness ; and if you will believe 
me you will spare yourself the trouble of reading this long 
letter, and will follow me.” 

Had a thunderbolt fallen into the midst of these good peo- 
ple, so peaceably met together, it could not have produced a 
more terrible effect. Broussel drew back, all of a tremble. It 
was a fearful thing, at that period, to be imprisoned through 
the King’s enmity. Louvières made a motion as if to procure 
his sword, which was on a chair in the corner of the room ; 
but a glance from the good man Broussel’^ eye, who, in the 
midst of all this, did not lose his presence of mind, stopped 
this act of desperation. Madame Broussel, who was sepa- 
rated from her husband by the breadth of the table, burst into 
tears, and the young girls held their father in their arms. 

Come, sir,” said Comminges, let us make haste ; the 
King must be obeyed.” 

Sir,” replied Broussel, I am in bad health; I cannot 
yield myself a prisoner in this state. I ask for time.” 

It is impossible,” replied Comminges ; the order is posi- 
tive, and must be executed immediately.” 

Impossible ? ” exclaimed Louvières. Take care, sir, that 
you do not drive us to desperation.” 

Impossible ? ” cried a shrill voice at the end of the room. 

Comminges turned and saw Dame Nanette, with her broom 
in her hand and her eyes blazing with anger. 


B90 


TWENTY YEAB.^ AFTER. 


good Nanette/’ said Br- ^^el, “be quiet now, I beg of 

yon.” 

“ I ? I keep myself quiet when they are arresting my mas- 
ter, the support, the liberator, the father of the good people ! 
Ah ! yes, indeed ; yon know me well enough. Will yon be 
^one ? ” said she to Comminges. 

Comminges smiled. 

“Come, sir,” said he, turning toward Broussel, “silence this 
woman and follow me.” 

“ Silence me ! — me ! — me ! ” cried Nanette ; “ah ! yes, in- 
deed ; but it would require some one rather better than you, 
my fine King’s-bird. You shall soon see ! ” 

And Dame Nanette rushed to the window, opened it, and in 
a voice so piercing that it could be heard in the square in 
front of Notre Dame : 

“ Help ! ” cried she ; “ they are arresting my master ! They 
are arresting the councillor Broussel ! Help ! help ! ” 

“ Sir,” said Comminges, “ tell me immediately — will you 
obey, or do you resist the King’s orders ? ” 

“ I obey, I obey, sir,” cried Broussel, endeavouring to release 
himself from his daughters’ arms, and, by his look, to check his 
son, who was every moment ready to escape from him. 

“ In that case,” said Comminges, “ silence that old woman.” 

“ Ah ! old woman indeed,” screamed Nanette. 

And clinging to the bars of the window, she continued to 
scream, “ Help ! help for Maître Broussel ! They are arresting 
him because he stood by the people ! Help ! ” 

Comminges seized the servant and tried to force her from 
her post ; but at this moment another voice, issuing from a 
Sort of entresol, screamed in a falsetto tone : 

Murder ! fire ! assassins ! They are killing M. Broussel ! 
They are murdering M. Broussel ! ” 

It was Briquet’s voice. Dame Nanette, finding herself sup- 
ported, renewed her cries with increased vigor, and joined in 
chorus. 

Daces, attracted by curiosity, began to appear at the windows. 
The people, attracted to the end of the street, came running up : 
first one or two men; then groups ; then a crowd. They heard 
the cries, they saw the carriage, but they did not understand. 
Briquet jumped from the entresol to the hood of the coach. 

“ They are trying to arrest M. Broussel ! ” he cried ; “ there 
are Guards in the carriage, and the officer is upstairs.” 


THE TE DEUM FOR THE VICTORY AT LENS. 391 


The crowd began to murmur, and surrounded the ]u,rses. The 
two Guards who had remained in the passage now went up to 
assist Comminges ; those who were in the coach opened the 
doors and crossed their pikes. 

There, do you see them ? ” cried Triquet ; “ do you see 
them ? There they are ! ” 

The coachman turned and gave Friquet a cut with his whip 
that made him howl with pain. 

Ah, you devil’s coachman,” cried Friquet, you meddle, in 
this, do you ! Just wait.” 

And he regained his entresol, from which he assailed the 
coachman with all the projectiles he could find. 

In spite of the hostile demonstrations of the Guards, and 
perhaps on account of them, the people began to grumble, and 
went up to the horses ; but the Guards drove back the most 
violent by blows with their pikes. 

Meantime the tumult continued to increase, and soon the 
street could no longer contain the spectators, who flocked from 
every quarter. The crowd began to take possession of the 
space which the formidable pikes of the Guards had formed 
between them and the coach. The soldiers, hemmed in as if 
by a living wall, were just going to be crushed against the 
naves of the wheels and panéls of the coach — the cries of 
“ In the King’s name !” twenty times repeated by the officer 
had had no effect upon this formidable crowd, which it ap- 
peared, indeed, only to exasperate the more — when at the cry 
of “ In the King’s name ! ” a cavalier hastened up, and seeing 
the uniforms ill-treated he threw himself into the fray, sword 
in hand, and brought the Guards unlooked-for aid. 

This cavalier was a young man of fifteen or sixteen, pale 
with anger. He dismounted, like the other Guards, set his 
back against the pole of the carriage, made a rampart of his 
horse, drew his pistols from his holster, put them into his gir- 
dle, and then began to lay about him like a man to whom the 
use of the sword is familiar. 

For ten minutes, alone and unsupported, he resisted every 
attack of the crowd. 

Comminges was then seen pushing Broussel before him. 

Let us break the carriage to pieces ! ” cried the people. 

“ Help ! ” screamed Nanette. 

“ Murder ! ” cried Friquet, continuing to shower down on the 
Guards everything he could find. 


392 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


In the King’s name ! ” exclaimed Comminges. 

The first man who advances is dead ! ” cried Kaoul,- 
who, finding himself much pressed upon, permitted a sort of 
giant, who was about to crush him, to taste the point of his 
sword, and who, feeling himself wounded, fell back howling 
dismally. 

For it was Kaoul, who, just returned from Blois, as he had 
promised the Comte de la Fere, after an absence of five days, 
had wished to have a glance at the ceremony, and had taken 
the streets that would lead him more directly to Notre Dame. 
When he had reached the entrance of the Bue Cocatrix, he 
had been carried along by the crowd ; and at the cry of ^^In 
the King’s name ! ” he had remembered Athos’s words — 
Serve the King,” and had run to fight for the King, whose 
Guards were being ill-treated. 

Comminges, as it were, flung Broussel into the carriage and 
darted in after him. At this moment a shot was fired, a ball 
passed through Comminges’s hat and broke the arm of one of 
the Guards. Comminges looked up, and, in the midst of the 
smoke, saw the threatening face of Bouvières looking out of 
the second-story window. 

Very well, sir,” cried Comminges ; you will hear of me 
again ! ” 

And you also, sir,” replied Bouvières, and we will then 
see who speaks the louder ! ” 

Friquet and Nanette still continued their screaming. Their 
cries, the noise of the shot, the smell of the powder, always so 
intoxicating, produced their effect. 

‘‘ Death to the officer — death ! ” shouted the crowd. 

And there was a fearful movement. 

“ One step more,” exclaimed Comminges, raising the blinds, 
that every one might see into the carriage, and putting his 
sword to Broussel’s breast, — one step more, and I kill the 
prisoner ! I am ordered to carry him away, alive or dead. I 
will take him away dead, that ’s all ! ” 

A terrible cry was heard. The wife and daughters of 
Broussel stretched out their supplicating hands to the people. 

The people understood that this officer, so pale, yet who 
appeared so resolute, would do what he said. Consequently, 
though they continued to threaten, they drew back. 

Comminges took the wounded Guard into the carriage, and 
ordered the others to shut the door. 


THE TE DEUM FOR THE VICTORY AT LENS. 898 


“To tlie palace ! ” said he to the coachman, who Avas more, 
dead than alive. 

He whipped his horses, which cleared a broad space in the 
croAvd ; but on reaching the quay, they were obliged to stop ; 
the carriage was upset and the horses carried off, overpowered 
and bruised by the crowd. 

Eaoul, on foot, — for he had not had time to remount his 
horse, — tired of dealing blows with the flat of his sword, as 
the Guards were doing with theirs, began to use the point ; 
but this terrible and last resource only exasperated the multi- 
tude. From time to time, also, the barrel of a carbine or the 
blade of a SAvord began to shine in the midst of the croAvd. 
Some gun-shots were also heard, doubtless fired in the air, but 
their echoes did not make the heart vibrate any the less ; and 
projectiles continued to be showered from the windoAvs, while 
voices were heard that are heard only in times of insurrection, 
and countenances were seen that are seen only in days of 
bloodshed. The cries of “ Death ! death to tlie Guards ! 

“ To the Seine with the officer ! ” rose above all the tumult, 
vast as it was. 

Raoul, his hat battered in and his face smeared Avith blood, 
felt that not only his strength, but his senses, began to fail 
him. A reddish mist SAvam before his eyes ; and through this 
mist he saw a hundred arms stretched toAvard him, ready to seize 
him Avhen he fell. Comminges was tearing his hair with rage 
in the overturned carriage. The Guards, engaged as they 
were in defending their own persons, could assist no one. All 
was nearly over: carriage, horses. Guards, attendants, nay, 
perhaps even the prisoner himself, — all were about to be torn 
to pieces, when suddenly a well-known voice . sounded in 
RaouPs ears, when all at once a large SAvord was seen flashing 
in the air ; at the same instant the crowd gave Avay, torn, over- 
throAvn, and crushed ; an officer of the Musketeers, cutting and 
slashing right and left, galloped up to Raoul and caught him 
in his arms just as he was falling. 

“ Sandieu ! ” cried the officer, “ have they murdered him ? 
The worse for them, if they have ! ” 

And he turned round, so formidable in his strength, his rage, 
and his threatening appearance, that even the most violent of 
the rebels ran over one another to escape him, and some even 
rolled into the Seine. 

“ M. d’Artagnan ! ” murmured Raoul, 


B94 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Yes, Sandieu ! my own self, and luckily for you, it seems to 
me, my young friend. Here ! you there ! he cried out, 
standing up in his stirrups and raising his sword as he beck- 
oned to his Musketeers, who had not been able to follow him, 
so impetuous had been his course, — come ! sweep me away 
all this scum ! To your muskets, men ! Make ready, aim — 

At this command, the mountains of people gave way so sud- 
denly that D’Artagnan could not restrain a Homeric burst of 
laughter. 

Thank you, D’Artagnan,” said Comminges, showing half 
his body out of the door of the prostrate carriage ; “ thank you 
also, young gentleman. Give me your name, that I may report 
it to the Queen.” 

Raoul was about to reply, when D’Artagnan whispered to 
him. Hold your tongue,” said he ; let me answer.” 

Then turning towards Comminges : 

Lose no time, Comminges,” he continued ; “ get out of 
the carriage if you can, and get another.” 

“ But where am I to find one ? ” 

“ Pardieu ! take the first that may happen to pass over the 
Pont-Heuf ; any one who may be in it will be only too happy, 
I hope, to lend their carriage for the King’s service.” 

“ But,” said Comminges, I do not know ” — 

Go along, then, or in five minutes all these mad fools will 
return with swords and muskets, you will be killed and your 
prisoner rescued. Go ! And see — yonder comes a carriage.” 

Then leaning down again to Raoul : By no means tell him 
your name,” he whispered. 

The youth looked at him with an air of astonishment. 

“ Very well, I am off,” said Comminges; and should they 
return, fire upon them.” 

“ No, no,” answered D’Artagnan ; on the contrary, let no 
one stir; one shot fired now would be dearly paid for to- 
morrow.” 

Comminges took his four Guards, and the same number of 
Musketeers, and ran to the carriage. He made those who 
were in it get out, and brought it up to the broken vehicle. 

But when, in removing Broussel from the one to the other, 
the people saw him whom they called their liberator, they 
uttered terrible cries and again rushed toward the carriage. 

Be off with you ! ” said D’Artagnan. Here are ten 
Musketeers to attend you, and. I will keep twenty to check 


THE TE DEUM FOR THE VICTORY AT LENS. 895 


the people. Be off, and do not lose a single instant. Ten 
men for Monsieur de Gomminges ! ” 

Ten men detached themselves from the troop, surrounded 
the carriage, and set off at a gallop. 

At the departure of the carriage the cries were redoubled. 
More than ten thousand people were assembled on the quay, 
blocking up the Pont-Neuf and the adjacent streets. 

Some shots were fired. A Musketeer was wounded. 

“ Forward ! ” cried D’Artagnan, driven beyond patience, 
and biting his mustache. And with his twenty men he made 
such a charge upon the people as overthrew them in utter con- 
fusion and dismay. 

One man alone kept his ground, with an arquebus in his 
hand. 

“ Ah ! ’’ said that man, it was you who before wanted to 
murder him ! Wait ! ” 

And he lowered his arquebus at D’Artagnan, who was com- 
ing on at full gallop. 

D’Artagnan bent down to his horse’s neck. The young 
man fired: the ball cut the plume of his hat. The horse, 
bounding forward at full speed, struck against this rash indi- 
vidual, who thus singly endeavoured to stay the tempest, and 
sent him staggering against the wall. 

D’Artagnan pulled his horse up on his haunches, and while 
his Musketeers continued their charge, he returned, with his 
sword raised over him whom he had overthrown. 

“ Ah, sir,” exclaimed Baoul, who recognised the young man 
from having seen him in the Eue Cocatrix, spare him, sir, 
for it is his son ! ” 

. D’Artagnan held his arm, about to strike. 

Ah ! you are his son,” said he; that’s qu' 
thing.” 

' “ I surrender, sir,” said Bouvières, holdin 

I charged arquebus to the officer. 

I ^^Eh! No, do not give yourself up; on 
[ with you, and that quickly. If I V üe yo' 
be hanged.” 

The young man did not wait io be t 
under the horse’s neck, and dir ‘opearei 
Eue Guénégaud. 

Faith,” said D’Artagnan to Eaoul,-‘ 
stop my hand; in another momeni. : ' 


tWentÿ yeahs after. 


396 

man ; and, by my faith, when I had learnt who it was I 
should have been sorry that I had killed him.’^ 

“ Ah, sir,’^ said Eaoiil, “ allow me, after having thanked 
you for this poor fellow, to thank you for myself ; for I also 
was just about to be killed when you arrived.’’ 

“Wait, wait, young man, and do not fatigue yourself with 
talking.” Then drawing a flask of Spanish wine from one of 
his holsters : 

“ There,” said he, “ drink a couple of mouthfuls of this.” 

Eaoul drank, and wished to repeat his thanks. 

“ Hush ! ” said D’Artagnan, “ we will talk about that by 
and by.” 

Then, seeing that the Musketeers had cleared the quay 
from the Pont-Heuf to the Quay Saint Michel, and that they 
were returning, he raised his sword for them to quicken their 
pace. 

The Musketeers came up at a trot ; and at the same time, 
from the other side of the quay, the ten men whom D’Arta- 
gnan had sent as the escort of Comminges were seen 
returning. 

“ Holà ! ” cried he to the latter, “ did anything fresh 
happen ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied the sergeant ; “ the carriage broke down 
again ; it was a regular fatality.” 

D’Artagnan shrugged his shoulders. 

“ They are awkward fellows,” said he. “ When one chooses 
a coach it ought to be a strong one ; the coach with which a 
Broussel is arrested should be able to carry ten thousand 

t are your orders, lieutenant ? ” 

m detachment and lead it to quarters.” 

’’ou retire alone ? ” 

do you suppose that I need an escort ? ” 

'^less’ — 

fepart.-d, and D’Artagnan remained alone 

uhi ? ■ said he to him. 
s In- .-y and burning.” 
l it i • : he matter with your head,” said 
^ hat. ^ Aha! a contusion. ” 

1 re( od a flower-pot on my head.” 


THE TE DK(;M for THE VICTORY AT LENS. 397 

The curs ! said D’Artagnan. “ But you have got spurs 
on — were you on horseback ? ” 

Yes ; but I dismounted to defend M. de Comininges, and 
my horse was captured. But look, there he is ! ” 

In fact, at that moment Raoul’s horse passed by with 
Briquet on his back, galloping along, waving his four-coloured 
cap and crying out ; 

‘‘ Broussel ! Broussel ! ” 

‘‘ Holà ! stop, you rascal ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan, and 
bring that horse here.” 

Briquet heard well enough, but he pretended not to hear, 
and endeavoured to continue his course. 

D’Artagnan had for a moment a great desire to ride aftei- 
Master Briquet ; but as he did not wish to leave Raoul alone, 
he contented himself with drawing a pistol from his holsters 
and cocking it. 

Briquet had a quick eye and a sharp ear ; he saw D’ Arta- 
gnan’s movement and heard the sound of the lock ; he there- 
fore suddenly drew up his horse. 

Ah ! it is you, officer,” said he, coming up to D’Artagnan ; 
‘‘ I am really very glad to meet you again.” 

D’Artagnan looked earnestly at Briquet, and recognised the 
little waiter of the Rue de la Calandre. 

Ah ! is it you, young rascal ? ” said he. “ Come here.” 

‘‘ Yes, it is me, officer,” replied Briquet, with his innocent 
look. 

Have you changed your employment ? You are no longer 
either a choir boy or a tavern waiter ? You have become a 
horse thief ? ” 

Ah, officer, how can you say so ? ” cried Briquet ; I 
was looking for the gentleman to whom the horse belongs — 
a handsome cavalier, brave as Cæsar.” (He then pretended 
to see Raoul for the first time.) Ah ! well, surely I am 
not mistaken,” he continued, “ there is the gentleman, 
I do declare. You will remember the boy, will you not, 
sir ? ” 

Raoul put his hand into his pocket. 

What are you going to do ? ” said D’Artagnan. 

‘^To give ten livres to this excellent boy,” replied Raoul, 
drawing a pistole from his pocket. 

Ten kicks ! ” said D’Artagnan. Be off with you, you 
young scoundrel, and remember that I have your address.” 


398 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Fi iquet, who did not expect to get off so easily, made but one 
jump from the quay to the E-ue Dauphine, where he vanished. 
Kaoul mounted his horse, and they both went at a slow pace, 
D’Artagnan guarding the youth, as if he had been his own son, 
toward the Kue Tiquetonne. 

All the way there were many low mumurs and distant 
threats ; but at the sight of the officer, with his military 
aspect, and his powerful sword suspended from his wrist by 
its thong, the crowd gave way, and no serious attack was made 
on the two horsemen. 

They reached the Hôtel de la Chevrette without accident. 

The fair Madeline informed D’Artagnan that Planchet was 
returned, accompanied by Mousqueton, who had borne the 
extraction of the ball most heroically, and was as well as 
could be expected. 

D’Artagnan then ordered Planchet to be called ; but 
Planchet did not respond to these calls ; he had disappeared. 
Some wine, then,” said D’Artagnan. 

AVhen the wine was brought and D’Artagnan was alone 
with Eaoul : 

“ You are mighty well satisfied with yourself , are you not ? ” 
said he, looking hard at him. 

Why, yes,” replied Eaoul, it appears to me that I have 
done my duty. Have I not defended the King ? ” 

And who told you to defend the King ? ” 

M. le Comte de la Père himself.” 

“ Yes, the King. But this day you have not defended the 
King — you have defended Mazarin, which is not the same 
thing.” 

But, sir ” — 

You have done a very foolish thing, young man, — you 
have interfered in matters which did not concern you.” 

“ Nevertheless, you yourself ” — 

Oh, I ! That is quite another thing ; I have obeyed my 
captain’s orders. Your captain is M. le Prince; understand 
this well — you have no other. But did any one see this 
giddy pate,” continued D’Artagnan, ‘‘ who must go and make 
himself a Mazarinist, and help to arrest Broussel ! Do not 
breathe a word of this on any account, or M. le Comte de la 
Père would be furious.” 

“ Why, do you think that the Count would be angry with me, 
sir ? ” 


THE TE DEUM FOR THE VICTORY AT LENS. 399 


“ Do I think it ? I am quite sure of it ; otherwise I should 
thank you, for you have been working for us. Therefore it is 
that I scold you at this time and place ; the storm, believe me, 
will be more gentle. Besides, my dear boy,” added D’Arta- 
gnan, I make use of the privilege that your guardian has 
granted me.” 

“ I do not understand you, sir,” said Baoul. 

D’Artagnan arose, went to his desk, took out a letter and 
gave it to Baoul. 

When Raoul had run over its contents, his face clouded. 

Oh, mon Dieu ! ” said he, raising his fine eyes, moist with 
tears, to D’Artagnan’s ; so the Count has left Paris without 
bidding me farewell ? ” 

He left four days ago,” replied D’Artagnan. 

“ But the letter indicates that he is running the risk of 
death.” 

Risk of death ! You may make yourself quite easy on that 
score. No ; he is gone on business, and will soon return. In 
the meantime I hope you have no objection to accept me as 
your guardian for the time being ? ” 

Oh, no, M. d’Artagnan, — you are so brave and the Count 
loves you so dearly ! ” 

Well, then, mon Dieu ! you must love me too. I will not 
plague you much ; but this is on condition that you remain a 
Frondeur, my young friend, and a warm Frondeur too.” 

But may I continue to see Madame de Chevreuse ? ” 

Most assuredly, mordieu ! and the coadjutor and Madame 
de Longueville also ; and if the good man Broussel were there, 
whoée arrest you so foolishly helped, I would say to you. Go 
ind make your excuses to M. Broussel as quickly as you can. 


kiss him on both cheeks.” 
jWell, sir, I will obey you, although 


I do not understand 


and 
u 

youi’ 

There is no necessity for your understanding me. See,” 
said\ D’Artagnan, 'turning to the door, which had just been 
thro\W open, ‘^’here comes M. du Vallon, with his clothes torn.” 

A^s,” said Porthos, dripping with perspiration and covered 
with dlust, but in exchange I have torn a good many skins. 
Those vrascals wanted to take away my sword. Peste ! what 
a riot Y’ continued the giant, with his tranquil air ; but I 
settled Vore than twenty of them with the pommel of Bali- 
zar<le. . A thimbleful of wine, D’Artagnan ! ” 


400 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ Oil, I will answer for you ! ” said the Gascon ; fill Por- ' 

thos’s glass to the brim. But when you have drunk, I want 

your opinion.” j 

Porthos tossed off the glass of wine, and when he had re- ! 
placed the glass on the table and sucked his mustache : 

On what ? ” said he. I 

Why,” replied D’Artagnan, here is M. de Bragelonne, who 
wanted to assist in the arrest of M. Broussel with all his might, 
and whom I had great difficulty in preventing from defending 
M. Comminges.” 

Peste ! ” said Porthos ; and what would his guardian say 
if he heard this ? ” 

There, do you hear ? ” broke in D’Artagnan. Be a Pron- 
deur, my friend ; and remember that I am the Count’s repre- 
sentative in everything.” 

And he shook his purse. 

Then turning to his companion, Are you coming, Porthos ? ” 
said he. 

Where ? ” demanded Porthos, pouring out another glass of 
wine. \ 

To pay our respects to the Cardinal.” \ 

Porthos swallowed the second glass with the same serenity 
that he had swallowed the first, took up his hat that he had 
laid upon a chair, and followed D’Artagnan. 

Raoul, astounded at what he had seen, remained, D’Arta- 
gnan having forbidden him to leave the room until all thé com- 
motion was appeased. ' 


THE MENDICANT OF ST. EUSTACHE. 401 


CHAPTER XL VII. 

THE MENDICANT OF ST. EUSTACHE. 

7 not going immediately to the Palais Royal D’Artagnan 
ac' ' d advisedly ; he had allowed Comminges ample time to 
pi; ede him there, and, consequently, to inform the Cardinal 
of Uie eminent services which he and his friend had that morn- 
ing rendered the Queen’s party. 

So both of them were well received by Mazarin, who paid 
them many compliments, and told them that each of them was 
more than half way to the accomplishment of his object — that 
is to say, D’Artagnan’s captaincy, Porthos’s barony. 

D’Artagnan would have much preferred ready money to all 
this, I for he well knew Mazarin was liberal enough of his 
prof aises, but slow in performance. He therefore considered 
el promises as meagre fare, but he did not appear the less 
sat’smed in Porthos’s presence, for he did not wish to discour- 
age lüm. 

WMe the two friends were with the Cardinal, the Queen 
sent' i6r him. The Cardinal thought that it would redouble 
the zeal of his two defenders if he were to procure for them 
the Queen’s personal thanks ; so he beckoned to them to follow 
him. D’Artagnan and Porthos jjointedto their torn and dusty 
clothe^, but the Cardinal shook his head. 

“ Tl^ese garments,” said he, are of more value than those 
of 7iio^t of the courtiers you will find with the Queen, for they 
are ba'ttle costumes.” 

D’Artagnan and Porthos obeyed. 

The Court of Anne of Austria was well attended and in ex- 
celh;nt spirits ; for after gaining a victory over the Spaniards, 
tl^y had in reality just won another over the people. Rroussel 
had been carried out of Paris without resistance, and by this 
mine was probably in the prison of St. Germain ; and Blanc- 
/ mesnil, who had been arrested at the same time, but Avithout 
disturbance or difficulty, was enrolled amongst the inmates of 
the Chateau of Vincennes. 

Comminges Avas close to the Queen, who was questioning him 
as to the particulars of his expedition ; and every one Avas 
listening to his recital^ when he perceived D’Artagnan and 


402 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Porthos at the door, and behind the Cardinal who was ji- 
entering. 

Ah, madame,” said he, hastening up to D’ Artagnan, her 
is one who can tell you this better than I can, for he is in} 
X^reserver. Had it not been for him I should probably at this 
very moment be caught in the nets at Saint Cloud ; for tliey 
threatened nothing less than to throw me into the ri/er. 
Speak, D’ Artagnan, speak ! ” 

Since he had been lieutenant of Musketeers, D’ Artagnan liad 
been perhaps a hundred times in the same room with the 
Queen, but never had she spoken to him. 

Well, sir,” said she, after having rendered me such a ser- 
vice, are you silent ? ” 

Madame,” replied D’ Artagnan, I have nothing to sa^' , 
except that my life is at your Majesty’s service, and that ^ 
shall only be too happy in sacrificing it for you.” 

I know that, sir,” said the Queen ; I have known it for 
a long time. I am therefore delighted at the opportunity o: 
giving you this public mark of my esteem and gratitude.” 

^‘Permit me, madame,” said D’ Artagnan, ‘^to transfer a 
portion of it to my friend, like myself [he emphasized these 
words] a former Musketeer of M. de Tréville’s comj)an ^ Ht 
has been accomplishing marvels !” V 

What is his name ? ” asked the Queen. 

<‘In the Musketeers he was called Porthos [the . Que< n 
started], but his real name is the Chevalier du Vallon.” 

“ De Bracieux de Pierrefonds,” added Porthos. 

These names are too numerous for me to remember, them 
all, and I only wish to recollect the first,” said the Queen 
graciously. 

Porthos bowed. D’ Artagnan stepped back two paces. 

At this moment the coadjutor was announced. 

There was an exclamation of surprise in the royal assembly. 
Although the coadjutor had preached that morning, it was well 
known that he had a strong leaning toward the Fronde ; and 
Mazarin, by requesting the Archbishop of Paris to make hil^ 
nephew preach, had evidently meant to give M. de Retz one of 
those sly Italian thrusts which so much delighted him. 

In fact, on leaving Notre Dame the coadjutor had heard 
of what had happened. Although pretty well involved with 
the principal Frondeurs, he was not so much so but that he 
could draw back if the Court should offer the advancement of 



i: 


K 














THE MENDICANT OF ST. EUSTACHE 








• . 


THE MENDICANT OF ST. EUSTACHE. 403 


which he was ambitious, and to which the office of coadjutor 
was but a stepping-stone. M. de Eetz wished to succeed his uncle 
as archbishop, and to be a cardinal, like Mazarin. Now, it was 
very difficult for the popular party to grant him these truly 
regal favours, and so he betook himself to the palace to pay 
his compliment to the Queen on the battle of Lens, but re- 
solved beforehand to act for or against the Court, according 
as that compliment was ill or well received. 

The coadjutor was therefore announced. He entered, and 
on his appearance the curiosity of all that triumphant Court 
redoubled to hear his words. 

The coadjutor had, for his own share alone, pretty nearly as 
much talent as was possessed by all those who were, united to 
laugh at him. Therefore his speech was so skilfully guarded 
that whatever desire the courtiers had to laugh, they could find 
nothing to lay hold of. He concluded by saying that he 
offered his feeble services to her Majesty. 

The Queen appeared to be much pleased with the coadjutor’s 
harangue while it lasted ; but the harangue having terminated 
with the ouly phrase that gave scope for jibes, Anne turned 
round, and by an almost imperceptible glance of her eye 
toward her favourites, apprised them that she gave the coad- 
jutor up to them. Instantly the wits of her Court began to 
launch forth their satire. Nogent-Beautin, the buffoon of the 
household, exclaimed that the Queen was very fortunate in 
finding the aids of religion at such a moment. 

Every one burst into laughter. 

The Comte de Villeroy declared that he did not know * 
how any. one could now entertain a moment’s fear, since, to 
defend the Court against the Parliament and the citizens of 
Paris, they had the coadjutor, who, by a wave of his hand, 
could levy an army of curés, of Swiss, and of beadles.” 

The Maréchal de la Meilleraie added that in case they 
came to blows, and the coadjutor should himself be engaged, 
it was very annoying that M. le Coadjutor could not be dis- 
tinguished in the battle by a red hat, as Henry IV. was, at the 
battle of Ivry, by his white plume.” 

Gondy remained calm and serene amid this storm, which he 
could so easily render deadly to fhe railers. The (Aieen then 
inquired if he had anything to add to the eloquent speech he 
had just concluded. 

“ Yes, madame,” replied the coadjutor, “ I have to en- 


404 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


treat you to reflect twice before you excite a civil war in the 
realm.’’ 

The Queen turned her back upon him, and the laughter was 
renewed. 

The coadjutor bowed and left the palace, bestowing on the 
Cardinal, who was looking at him, one of those glances that 
are well understood between mortal enemies. This glance was 
so bitter that it penetrated even to the heart of Mazarin, who, 
seeing that it was a declaration of war, seized D’Artagnan by 
the arm and said to him : 

“ On a proper occasion, sir, you would be able to recognise 
that man who is just gone out, would you not ? ” 

Yes, monsignor,” he replied. 

Then D’Artagnan, turning to Porthos, said : The devil ! 
This is a bad business ; I do not like quarrels between Church- 
men.” 

Gondy retired, scattering his benedictions on all he met as 
he went, and enjoying the malicious pleasure of making all, 
even the servants of his enemies, fall on their knees before him. 

Oh ! ” he muttered as he passed the threshold of the 
palace, ungrateful Court ! perfidious Court ! cowardly Court ! 
To-morrow I will make you laugh, but it will be in another 
tone ! ” 

While the courtiers were giving vent to the extravagances of 
joy, in order to feed the Queen’s hilarity, Mazarin, a man of 
sense, who had also all the prescience of fear, did not waste 
his time in vain and dangerous pleasantries. He had left the 
Court after the coadjutor, had balanced his accounts, locked up 
his money, and caused some secret hiding-places to be made in 
the walls by workmen in whom he could trust. 

On returning home, the coadjutor was informed that a young 
man who had come in after his departure was still waiting for 
him. He inquired the name of this young man, and started 
with joy on learning that it was Louvieres. 

He immediately hastened to his cabinet, where he found 
Broussel’s son, still furious and bloody from his struggle with 
the King’s troops. The only precaution he had taken, in 
entering the archbishop’s palace, was to leave his arquebus at 
the house of a friend. 

The coadjutor went up to him and offered him his hand. 
The young man looked at him as if he wished to read the 
inmost recesses of his heart. 


THE MENDICANT OF ST. EU ST ACHE. 405 


My dear M. Louvieres,” said tlie coadjutor, believe me 
that I sympathise sincerely with the misfortune that has 
befallen you.’’ 

Is that true, and do you speak seriously ? ” asked Louvières. 

“ From the bottom of my heart,” replied Gondy. 

“ In that case, monseigneur,” said Louvièrns, the time for 
words is past, and that for action has arrived. Monseigneur, if 
you wish it my father will be out of prison in three days, and 
in six months you will be a cardinal.” 

The coadjutor started. 

“ Oh, let us speak plainly,” said Louvières ; let us play 
with all our cards on the table. No one scatters thirty thou- 
sand crowns in alms, as you have done in the last six months, 
from pure Christian charity; that. would be too exalted. You 
are ambitious — that is the simple fact ; you are a man of 
genius and know your own value. I hate the Court, and at 
this present moment I have but one sole desire — vengeance. 
Give us the clergy and the people, whom you have at your 
disposal, and I will give you the citizens and the Parliament. 
With these four elements, in a week Paris will be ours ; and, 
believe me. Monsieur le Coadjuteur, the Court will give from 
fear what it would not grant from favour.” 

The coadjutor looked at Louvières with his piercing eye. 

“ But, Monsieur Louvières, do you know that it is simply 
and plainly civil war that you are proposing ? ” 

“ Monseigneur, you have been preparing for it long enough 
to make it welcome whenever it comes.” 

Never mind,” said the coadjutor; ‘^but you understand 
that this calls for reflection.” 

And how many hours’ reflection do you require ? ” 

Twelve — is that too long, sir ? ” 

It is now noon — at midnight I will come back.” 

If I should not be returned, wait for me.” 

Very well. At midnight, monseigneur.” 

At midnight, my dear Monsieur Louvières.” 

When alone, Gondy summoned all the curés with whom he 
had any connection. In two hours he had assembled thirty 
curés of the most populous and, consequently, the most turbu- 
lent parishes of Paris. Gondy apprised them of the insult he 
had just received at the Palais lioyal, and repeated the jibes 
of Beautin, of the Cpmte de Yilleroy, and of Maréchal de la 
Meilleraie. The curés inquired what was to be done. 


406 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ It is very simple,” replied the coadjutor. You direct all 
the consciences. Well, then, undermine that wretched prejudii c 
of fear and respect for kings ; tell your flocks that the Queen 
is a tyrant; and declare, so assiduously that all may know il, 
that the misfortunes of France come from Mazarin, her lover 
and corrupter. Begin your labours this very day — in fact, 
instantaneously, and in three days I shall expect to learn the 
results from you. Besides, if any one of you has any good 
advice to give me, let him remain ; I will listen to him with 
pleasure.” 

Three of the curés remained — those of Saint Merri, of Saint 
Sulpice, and of Saint Eustache. 

The others retired. 

So you think, do you, that you can aid me more effica- 
ciously than your brethren ? asked De Gondy. 

“We hope so,” replied the curés. 

“ Come, then, let the minister of Saint Merri begin.” 

“ Monseigneur, I have in my parish a man who might be 
most useful to you.” 

“ Who is this man ? ” 

“ A shopkeeper in the Hue des Lombards, who has the great- 
est influence over the little commercial body of his neighbour- 
hood.” 

“ What is his name ? ” 

“His name is Planchet. He alone raised a riot about six 
weeks ago ; but it was put down and they tried to find him so 
^as to hang him. He disappeared.” 

“ And can you find him again ? ” 

“ I hope so. I do not think that he was arrested ; and as I 
am his wife’s confessor, if she knows where he is I shall 
ascertain it.” 

“ Very well. Monsieur le Curé, hunt up this man for me, 
and if you find him bring him here.” 

“ At what hour, monseigneur ? ” 

“ At six o’clock — will that do ? ” 

“ We will be with you at six o’clock, monseigneur.” 

“ Go, my dear curé, go, and may God assist you ! ” 

The curé left the room. 

“ And you, sir,” said Gondy, turning to the curé of Saint 
Sulpice. 

“ Monseigneur,” said he, “ I know a man who has rendered 
great services to a very popular prince ; he would make an 

m 


THE MENDICANT OF ST. EUSTAVHE. 407 

excellent leader of rebels, and I could place him at your dis- 
posal.’^ 

‘‘ And what is this man’s name ? ” 

M. le Comte de Eochefort.” 

I also know him ; unfortunately he is not in Paris.” 

‘‘ Monseigneur, he is in the Eue Cassette.” 

How long has he been there ? ” 

For three days.” 

Why has he not been to see me ? ” 

They told him — will monseigneur pardon me ? ” 

Certainly ; speak.” 

“ That monseigneur was disposed to treat with the Court.” 

Gondy bit his lips. 

“He was deceived,” said he; “bring him here at eight 
o’clock. Monsieur le Curé ; and may God bless you, as I do.” 

The second curé bowed and left the room. 

“ It is now your turn, sir,” said the coadjutor, addressing 
the last that remained. “ Have you as good advice to offer 
me as the two gentlemen who have just left us ? ” 

“ Better, monseigneur.” 

“ Diable ! Eeflect that you are taking upon yourself a vast 
obligation. One has offered me a shopkeeper, the other a 
count : are you going to offer me a prince ? ” 

“ I am going to offer you a beggar, monseigneur.” 

“ Aha ! ” said Gondy, reflecting ; “ you are right, M. le Curé,- 
— some one who would excite all that legion of beggars who 
cumber the thoroughfares of Paris, and who would know how 
to make them cxy, loud enough for all of France to hear them, 
that Mazarin has reduced them to beggary.” 

“ Exactly so. I have your man.” 

“ Bravo ! And who is the man ? ” 

“ A simple mendicant, as I have told you, monseigneur, who 
for about six years has been begging while he distributes 
holy water on the steps of the church of Saint Eustache.” 

“ And you say that he has a great influence over his fel- 
lows ? ” 

“Is monseigneur aware that mendicancy is an organized 
body — a kind of association of those who possess nothing 
against those who possess something — an association in 
which each contributes a share, and which depends upon a 
chief ? ” 

“ Yes, I have heard so,” replied the coadjutor. 


408 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“Well, then, this man of whom I speak is the syndic- 
general.” 

“ And what do you know of this man ? ” 

“ISTothing, monseigneur, except that he appears to be tor- 
mented by some remorse.” 

• u What makes you think so ? ” 

“On the 28th of every .month he makes me say a Mass for 
the repose of the soul of some person who died a violent 
death; and yesterday I repeated that Mass.” 

“ And his name is ” — 

“ Maillard ; but I think it is not his real name.” 

“ And do you think that we should find him now at his 
post ? ” 

“ Yes, certainly.” 

“ Come, then, let us see your mendicant. Monsieur' le Curé; 
and if he is such as you represent him, you are right — you 
have found the real treasure. 

And Gondy dressed himself as a cavalier, put on his head a 
wide hat with a red plume, girded a long sword to his loins, 
put spurs on his boots, wrapped an ample cloak around him, 
and followed the curé. 

The coadjutor and his companion traversed all the streets 
that separated the archbishop’s palace from the church of 
Saint Eustache, studying attentively the feelings of the popu- 
lace. The people were certainly excited ; but like a swarm of 
frightened bees, they appeared not to know where to settle ; 
and it was evident that unless leaders were found for this 
people, all would pass off in murmurs. 

On reaching the Eue des Prouvaires the curé pointed to the 
porch of the church. 

“ Look,” said he ; “there he is at his post.” 

Gondy looked at the spot indicated, and saw a poor man 
seated on a chair, with his back against one of the pillars. 
He had a little pail near him, and held a holy-water sprinkler 
in his hand. 

“ Is he privileged to sit there ? ” inquired Gondy. 

“Ho, monseigneur,” replied the curé ; “he purchased from 
his predecessor the privilege of giving holy water.” 

“ Bought it ? ” 

“ Yes ; such places are purchased ; and I believe that this 
man paid a hundred pistoles for his,” 

“ So the rascal is rioh ?” 


THE MENDTCANT OF ST. EUSTACHE. 409 


Some of these men leave, at their death, from twenty to 
thirty thousand livres, and even more.” 

“ Hum ! ” said Gondy, laughing ; I did not imagine that 
I bestowed my alms so well.” 

In the meantime they were approaching the porch. At#- 
the moment that the coadjutor and the curé set foot on the 
first step of the church, the mendicant rose up and held out 
his holy-water sprinkler. 

He was a man of sixty-six or sixty-eight, short, rather stout, 
with grey hair and tawny eyes. In his face could be read the 
story of a struggle between two opposing principles — a bad 
disposition, subdued by the will or perhaps by repentance. 

On seeing the cavalier who accompanied the curé, he started 
slightly and looked at him with astonishment. 

The curé and the coadjutor touched the holy water with the 
end of their fingers and made the sign of the cross ; the coad- 
jutor threw a piece of money into the mendicant’s hat, which 
was on the ground. 

Maillard,” said the curé, this gentleman and I are come 
to talk a moment with you.” 

‘‘ With me ! ” said the mendicant ; it is a great honour for 
a poor holy-water giver.” 

There was a tone of irony in the beggar’s voice that he 
could not entirely suppress, and that surprised the coadjutor. 

“ Yes,” said the curate, who appeared accustomed to that 
accent, — yes, we wished to learn what you think about the 
events that happened to-day, and what you have heard the 
people say as they went in and out of the church.” 

The mendicant shook his head. 

These are sad events. Monsieur le Curé, and they will, as 
always, fall on the poor people. As for what is said about it, 
every one is dissatisfied, every one complains ; but what every 
one thinks no orue says.” 

Explain yourself, my dear friend,” said the coadjutor. 

I say that all these cries, all these complaints, all these 
curses, will only produce storms and lightnings — that is all ; 
for the thunder-bolt will never fall till there be a leader to 
direct it.” 

My friend,” said Gondy, ‘‘ you seem to me to be a clever 
man. Would you be disposed to take part in a little civil war, 
should we by chance have one, and to pl^ce at the disposal of 


410 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


such a leader, should we find one, that' personal power and 
influence which you have acquired over your comrades ? 

Yes, sir, provided the civil war you allude to were approved 
of by the Church, and, consequently, might conduct me to the 
end that I wish to attain — that is to say, the remission of my 
sins.’’ 

This war will not only be approved of, but directed, by 
her,” replied the coadjutor. As for the remission of your 
sins, we have the Archbishop of Paris, who holds vast powers 
from the Court of Rome, and even the coadjutor, who possesses 
plenary indulgences. We will recommend you to him.” 

“ Consider, Maillard,” said the curé, that it was I who 
recommended you to this gentleman, who is a powerful noble- 
man, and that I have in some measure answered for you.” 

“I know. Monsieur le Curé,” replied the mèndicant, that 
you have always been an excellent friend to me ; so I, on my 
part, am disposed to oblige you.” 

‘‘ And do you believe your power to be as great over your 
confreres as Monsieur le Curé told me awhile ago ? ” 

I think that they have a certain regard for me,” said the 
mendicant, with pride ; and that not only will they do 
whatever I order them, but that they will follow me wherever 
I go.” 

And can you answer for fifty resolute men, — good souls, 
idle and lively, — bawlers, capable of lowering the walls of 
the Palais Royal by crying, ‘ Down with Mazarin ! ’ as the 
walls of Jericho fell in old times?” 

I believe,” replied the mendicant, that I might be trusted 
with much more difficult and more important things than 
that.” 

Aha ! ” said Gondy ; would you undertake, then, to set up 
a dozen barricades or so in one night ? ” 

I would undertake to set up fifty, and, when daylight 
came, to defend them also.” 

‘^Pardieu !” said Gondy, you speak with a confidence that 
delights me ; and since the curé answers for you ” — 

“ I answer for him,” said the curé. I 

“ Here is a bag containing five hundred gold pistoles ; make | 
all your plans, and tell me where I can find you at ten o’clock } 
to-night. It ought to be on an elevated spot, from which a j 
signal may be seen in every quarter of Paris.” | 

Would you like me to give you an order on the vicar of 1 


TOWER OF SAINT JACQFE S-LA-BOUCHERIE. All 


Saint J acques-la-Bouclierie ? He will put yon into one of the 
chambers in the tower,” said the curé. 

“ That will do admirably,” replied the mendicant. 

Then,” said the coadjutor, this evening, at ten o’clock ; 
and should I be satisfied with you, you shall have another bag 
of five hundred pistoles.” 

The mendicant’s eyes shone with desire, but he checked 
the feeling. 

“ This evening, sir,” said he, everything shall be ready.” 

And he carried his chair into the church, set his pail and 
sprinkler near the chair, went and took some holy water from 
the large receptacle as if he had no confidence in his own, 
and left the church. 


CHAPTEK XLVIII. 

THE TOWER OF SAINT JACQUES-LA-BOUCHERIE. 

At a quarter to six o’clock M. de Gondy had transacted all 
his business and returned to the archbishop’s palace. 

At six o’clock the curé of Saint Merri was announced. 

The coadjutor looked eagerly behind the curé, and saw that 
he was followed by another man. 

Show him in,” said he. 

The curé entered, and Planchet with him. 

Monseigneur,” said the curé of Saint Merri, here is the 
person whom I had the honour to mention to you.” 

Planchet bowed with the air of a man who had been accus- 
tomed to good society. 

And you are disposed to serve the cause of the people ? ” 
asked Gondy. 

“ I believe so, indeed,” replied Planchet ; ‘‘ I am a Frondeur 
at heart. Such as you now see me, monseigneur, I am con- 
demned to be hanged.” 

“ And for what ? ” 

“ I rescued a nobleman from the hands of Mazarin’s soldiers, 
who were carrying him back to the Bastille, where he had been 
five years.” 

“ His name ? ” 

Oh, monseigneur knows it well : it is the Comte de Boche- 
fort.” 


412 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Ah, yes, indeed ! said the coadjutor; I have heard of 
that affair. I was informed that you raised the whole neigh- 
bourhood.’’ 

Pretty nearly so,” answered Planchet, with an air of self- 
satisfaction. 

“ And your business is ” — 

A pastry-cook, in the Pue des Lombards.” 

Explain to me how, in carrying on such a peaceful occu- 
pation, you have such warlike propensities.” 

Why does monseigneur, being a churchman, now receive 
me in the dress of a cavalier, with a sword by his side and 
spurs on his boots ? ” 

Not badly answered, by my faith,” said Gondy, laughing. 

But you know that, in spite of my band, my inclinations were 
always warlike.” 

Well, monseigneur, before I was a pastry-cook I was three 
years a sergeant in the regiment of Piedmont ; and before 
that, I was for eighteen months lacquey to M. d’Artagnan.” 

The lieutenant of Musketeers ? ” demanded Gondy. 

^^The same, monseigneur.” 

“ But he is said to be a violent Cardinalist.” 

Hew ! ” said Planchet. 

What do you mean ? ” 

Nothing, monseigneur. M. d’Artagnan is in the service. 
M. d’Artagnan does his duty in defending Mazarin, who pays 
him, as it is the business of us citizens to attack Mazarin, who 
robs us.” 

^‘You are an intelligent fellow, my friend. Can I depend 
upon you ? ” 

“ I thought,” said Planchet, that the curé had answered 
for me.” 

“ True ; but I wish to receive the assurance from your own 
mouth.” 

You may depend upon me, monseigneur, provided it con- 
cerns an insurrection in the city.” 

“ That is exactly the case. How many men do you think 
you can collect in the night ? ” 

Two hundred muskets and five hundred halberds.” 

If there were only a man in every quarter who could do 
the same we should have a pretty strong army.” 

Yes, indeed ! ” i 

Would you be willing to obey the Comte de Bochefort ? ” 


TOWER OF SAINT JACQUES-LA-BOUCHERIE. 413 


would follow him to hell, and that is saying not a little 
— for I think he is capable of going down there.” 

Bravo ! ” 

By what sign can we distinguish friends from enemies to- 
morrow ? ” 

Let every Frondeur put a bunch of straw in his hat.” 

Very well; make that order.” 

Do you require any money ? ” 

Money never does harm in anything, monseigneur. If we 
have n’t it, we will do without it ; but if we have it, why, then 
things will go on faster and better.” 

Gondy went to a desk and drew forth a bag. 

Here are five hundred pistoles,” said he ; and if every- 
thing goes on well you may reckon on a like sum to-morrow.” 

I will render a faithful account of this sum, monseigneur,” 
said Planchet, putting the bag under his arm. 

Very well ; I recommend the Cardinal to you.” 

‘‘ Be quite easy ; he is in good hands.” 

Planchet left the room. The curé remained. 

Are you satisfied ? ” said he. 

Yes ; this man seems to be a resolute fellow.” 

^^Well, he will do more than he has promised.” 

That is excellent.” 

And the curé rejoined Planchet, who was waiting for him 
on the staircase. Ten minutes later the curé of Saint Sulpice 
was announced. The moment the door was opened a man 
rushed in; it was the Comte de Rochefort. 

It is you, then, my dear Count! ” cried Gondy, holding out 
his hand to him. 

So you are at length decided, monseigneur,” said Rochefort. 

I have always been,” replied Gondy. 

Well, let us speak no more about that ; you say so, and I 
believe you. So we are going to make Mazarin dance, are 
we ? ” 

Well — I hope so.” 

When will the dance begin ? ” 

The invitations are for this evening,” replied the coad- 
jutor, but the violins will not begin to play till to-morrow 
morning.” 

“ You may count on me, and on fifty soldiers whom the 
Chevalier d’Humières has promised whenever I should w^ant 
them.” 


414 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Fifty soldiers ? 

Yes ; he is recruiting, and lends them to me. AYhen the 
entertainment is over, if any are lost I will replace them.’’ 

Very well, my dear Rochefort. But that is not all.” 

And what more do you want ? ” asked Rochefort, smiling. 

M. de Beaufort — what have you done with him ? ” 

He is in the Vendomois, where he is waiting until I write 
for him to come back to Paris.” 

Write to him, then, — it is time.” 

“ Why, you are sure of your blow ?” 

“ Yes, but he must make haste ; for the Parisians will hardly 
be in revolt before we shall have ten princes, instead of one, 
who will wish to put themselves at their head ; and should he 
delay he will find the place taken.” 

“ May I give him this advice as from you ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ May I tell him that he may rely upon you ? ” 

“ Most assuredly.” 

“ And you will leave him all power ? ” 

“ As to the war, certainly ; as to the politics ” — 

“ You know that is not his forte.” 

“ He will let me manage as I like about my cardinal’s hat.” 
“ And is your mind fixed on that ? ” 

“ As I am obliged to wear a hat the shape of which does 
not suit me,” said G-ondy, “ I wish that hat, at any rate, to be 
red.” 

“There is no disputing about tastes and colours,” said 
Rochefort, laughing ; “ so I will answer for his consent.” 

“ And you \yill write to him this evening ? ” 

“I will do better than that — I will send a messenger to 
him.” 

“ In how many days can he be here ? ” 

“ In five days.” 

“ Let him come, and he will find a change here.” 

“ I hope so.” 

“ I do not doubt you.” 

“Well?” 

“ Go and collect your fifty men, and hold yourself in readi- 
ness.” 

“ For what ? ” 

“For everything.” 

“ Is there any rallying sign ?” — ' 


TOWER OF SAINT JACQUES-LA-BOUCHERIE. 415 


“ A bunch of straw in the hat/’ 

That ’s right. Adieu, monseigneur.” 

Adieu, my dear Rochefort.” 

“ Ah, Mons Mazarin, Mons Mazarin ! ” said Rochefort, as 
he dragged along his curé, who had not found an opportunity of 
slipping in a single word in the conversation, — you shall see 
whether I am too old for action ! ” 

It was half-past nine ; and it required a good half-hour for 
the coadjutor to go from the archiépiscopal palace to the tower 
of Saint Jacques-la-Boucherie. 

The coadjutor observed that there was a light burning at one 
of the loftiest windows of the tower. 

“ Good ! ” said he ; our syndic is at his post.” 

He knocked, and some one opened the door. The vicar him- 
self was waiting for him, and lighted him up to the top of the 
tower. AVhen he had reached it he showed him a little door, 
set the candle in an angle of the wall, that the coadjutor might 
find it when he came out, and went down again. 

Although the key was in the door, the coadjutor knocked. 
Come in ! ” said a voice which the coadjutor recognised as 
the mendicant’s. 

De Gondy entered. It was in reality the distributor of 
holy water of the porch of Saint Eustache. He was waiting, 
stretched out on a sort of pallet. 

On seeing the coadjutor enter, he rose up. 

It struck ten o’clock. 

Well,” said Gondy, have you kept your word to me ? ” 
Not altogether,” replied the mendicant. 

How is that ? ” 

You asked me for five hundred men, did you not ? ” 

“ Yes — well ? ” 

‘‘ Well, I shall have two thousand for you.” 

Are you not boasting ? ” 

Do you wish for proof of it ? ” 

Yes.” 

Three candles were burning, each before a window, of which 
one looked toward the city, the other toward the Palais Royal, 
and the third toward the Rue St. Denis. 

The man went silently to each of these candles and extin- 
guished them, one after the other. 

The coadjutor found himself in darkness. The room was 
lighted only by the uncertain beams of the moon hidden 


416 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


I 

behind great black clouds, the edges of which it tinged with i 
silver. 

‘‘ What did you do ? ’’ asked the coadjutor. | 

I have given the signal.’’ 

‘‘ What signal ?” ^ 

For the barricades.” 

Aha ! ” I 

When you leave this place, you will see my men at work, i 
But take care that you do not break your legs by running ^ 
into some chain, or by falling into a hole.” j 

“Very well. Here is the sum, the same as you have already 
received. Now, remember that you are a leader, and do not go 
and drink.” 

“ For twenty years I have drunk water only.” 

The man took the bag from the hands of the coadjutor, who 
heard the noise he made in fumbling and handling the pieces 
of gold. 

“ Aha ! ” said the coadjutor, “ you are a miser, you rogue.” 

The mendicant heaved a sigh and threw the bag aside. 

“ Shall I always be the same, then ? ’I said he ; “ and shall 
I never be able to put off the old man ? Oh, misery ! Oh, 
vanity ! ” 

“ And yet you take it,” said the coadjutor. 

“ Yes ; but in your presence I vow to employ what may be 
left of it in pious uses.” 

His countenance was pale and contracted, like that of a man 
who had just experienced a strong internal struggle. 

“ Singular man ! ” muttered Oondy. 

And he took his hat to go away ; but on turning round, he 
saw the mendicant between him and the door. 

His first impression was that the man had some evil inten- 
tion against him. 

But soon, on the contrary, he saw him clasp his hands and 
fall on his knees. 

“ Monseigneur,” said he, “ before you leave me, your bless- 
ing, I beseech you ! ” 

“ Monseigneur ! ” exclaimed Gondy. “ My friend, you take 
me for some other person.” 

“ No, monseigneur, I only take you for what you are ; that 
is to say, for the coadjutor. I knew you at the first glance.” 

Gondy smiled. 

“ And you wish for my blessing ? ” said he. 


THE COMMOTION. 


417 


Yes ; I need it.” 

The mendicant uttered these words in a tone of such deep 
humility and profound repentance that Gondy stretched his 
hand over him, and gave him his blessing with all the unction 
of which he was capable. 

‘‘Now,” said the coadjutor, “there is a bond of fellowship 
between us. I have blessed you, and you are consecrated to 
me, as I, on my part, am to you. Say, have you committed 
any great crime which subjects you to human justice, and 
against which I can protect you ? ” 

The mendicant shook his head. 

“ The crime that I have committed, monseigneur, has noth- 
ing to do with human justice ; and you can free me from it 
only by often blessing me, as you have just done.” 

“Be candid,” said the coadjutor; “you have not all your 
life followed your present employment ? ” 

“ No, monseigneur ; I have followed it only for ten years.” 

“ And before that where were you ? ” 

“ In the Bastille.” 

“ And before you were in the Bastille ? ” 

‘ ‘ I will tell you, monseigneur, on that day when you are 
willing to receive my confession.” 

“ Very well. At whatever hour of the day or the night you 
present yourself before me, remember that I am willing to give 
you absolution.” 

“ Thanks, monseigneur,” said the mendicant in a hollow 
voice ; “ but I am not yet ready to receive it.” 

“ Very well. Adieu.” 

“ Adieu, monseigneur,” said the mendicant, opening the 
door and bending low before the prelate. 

The coadjutor took the candle, descended the stairs, and 
went out absorbed in thought. 


CHAPTEB XLIX. 

THE COMMOTION. 

It was nearly eleven o’clock at night, and Gondy had not 
walked a hundred paces before he perceived a strange altera- 
tion taking place in the streets of Paris. 

The whole City seemed to be inhabited by fantastic beings ; 


418 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


silent shadows were seen who were unpaving the streets ; 
others were dragging and emptying carts ; others were digging 
trenches sufficient to engulf whole troops of horsemen. All 
these persons, so actively employed, were running back and 
forth like demons performing some unheard-of work. These 
were the beggars of the Cour des Miracles — they were the 
agents of the giver of holy water of the porch of St. Eustache 
who were preparing the barricades for the morrow. 

Gondy looked at these men of darkness, these nocturnal 
workers, with a kind of terror. He asked himself whether, 
after having caused all these foul and unclean creatures to 
leave their dens, he should have the power of making them 
return to them again. When any one of these beings 
approached him he was inclined to make the sign of the cross. 

He reached the Rue Saint Honoré, and went down it toward 
the Rue de la Ferronnerie. There the appearance was quite 
different : merchants were running from shop to shop ; the 
doors appeared to be shut as well as the shutters, but they 
were only pushed to, so that they opened and shut immedi- 
ately after giving entrance to men who seemed to be afraid to let 
any one see what they were carrying ; these men were the 
shopkeepers, who, having arms, were lending them to those 
who had none. 

One individual was going from door to door, bending under 
the weight of swords, arquebuses, musketoons, and arms of 
every kind, which he laid down as they were wanted. By the 
light of a lantern the coadjutor recognised Flanchet. 

The coadjutor reached the quay by the Rue de la Monnaie. 
On the quay groups of citizens, in black or grey cloaks (which 
denoted whether they belonged to the highest or lowest rank 
of their order), were standing immovable, while individuals 
were passing from one group to another. Each of these black 
or grey cloaks was raised up behind by the point of a sword, 
and in front by the barrel of an arquebus or a musketoon. 

On reaching the Pont-Neuf, the coadjutor found that bridge 
guarded. A man came up to him. 

Who are you ? ” demanded this man. I do not know 
you as one of us.’’ 

That is because you do not know your friends, my dear 
Louvières,” said the coadjutor, raising his hat. 

Bouvières recognised him and bowed. 

Gondy pursued his round, and went down even to the tower 


THE COMMOTION. 


419 


of Nesle. There he saw a long line of men gliding along the 
walls ; they might have been taken for a procession of phan- 
toms, for they were all enveloped in white cloaks. Having 
I reached a certain spot, all these men appeared to vanish, one 
I after the other, as if the earth had opened under their feet. 

I Gondy took up his position in an angle, and saw them all dis- 
I appear, from the first even to the last but one. 

The last man raised his eyes, doubtless to make himself sure 
that he and his companions were not watched, and, in spite of 
the darkness, he saw Gondy. He went straight up to him and 
put a pistol to his throat. 

Holà ! Monsieur de Rochefort,” said Gondy, laughing ; 
“ let us not play with firearms.” 

Rochefort recognised the voice. 

Ah, is it you, monseigneur ? ” said he. 

My own self. But what people are you thus conducting 
into the bowels of the earth ? ” 

My fifty recruits from the Chevalier d’Humières, who are 
destined to enter into the light cavalry, and who have received, 
as part of their equipment, their white cloaks.” 

And where are you going ? ” 

To a sculptor’s, a friend of mine ; only we descend by the 
trap-door through which he carries in his marble.” 

“ Very well,” said Gondy, and he shook hands with Roche- 
fort, who then went down in his turn and closed the trap- 
door behind him. 

The coadjutor returned home. It was one o’clock in the 
morning ; he opened his window and leaned out to listen. 

A strange, unheard-of, unknown sound pervaded the whole 
City. It was evident that some unusual and terrible thing was 
taking place in all these streets, which were as dark as Erebus. 
From time to time a low rumbling noise was heard, like that 
of a gathering storm or a rising surge ; but nothing clear, noth- 
ing distinct, nothing explicable, was offered to the mind ; one 
might have said that these sounds were like the mysterious 
and subterranean noises that precede an earthquake. 

Thus the work of revolt continued throughout the whole 
night. The next morning, Paris, on awakening, seemed to 
start at her own appearance. She might have been taken for 
a besieged city. Armed men were standing by the barricades, 
with threatening eye and musket on the shoulder. Watch- 
words, patrols, arrests, nay, even executions — these were what 


420 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


those who passed met with at every step. Plumed hats and 
gilded swords were stopped, to make the wearers cry, Down 
with Mazarin ! Vive Broussel ! and whoever refused to sub- 
mit to this ceremony was hooted, spit upon, and even beaten. 
They did not yet kill, but it was apparent that the inclination 
was not wanting. 

The barricades had been pushed forward, even to the Palais 
Koyal. From the Pue des Bons-Enfants to that of La Fer- 
ronnerie, from the Bue Saint Thomas du Louvre to the Pont- 
Neuf, from the Bue Bichelieu to the gate of Saint Honoré, 
there were more than ten thousand armed men, the foremost 
of whom were uttering cries of defiance to the unmoved senti- 
nels of the regiment of Guards, placed as an advanced post all 
around the Palais Boyal, the iron-grated gates of which were 
closed behind them — a precaution that made their situation 
precarious. In the midst of all this, bands of men, from a hun- 
dred to three hundred in number, ghastly, livid, and ragged, 
were going about carrying standards on which was written : 
^Œehold the poverty of the people ! Wherever these stand- 
ard-bearers passed frenzied cries were heard ; and there were 
so many similar bands that the cries were universal. 

Great was the astonishment of Anne of Austria and Maza- 
rin when, on their awaking, it was declared that the City, 
which they had left in tranquillity the evening before, was now 
fevered and ift commotion. Neither of them was willing to 
believe the reports that reached them, and they declared that 
they would trust only to their own eyes and ears. So a window 
was opened ; they saw, they heard, and they were convinced. 

Mazarin shrugged his shoulders and pretended greatly to 
despise this populace ; yet he turned pale, and ran to his 
cabinet in extreme agitation, shutting up his gold and jewels 
in his caskets, and putting his most valuable diamonds on his 
fingers. The Queen, furious, and abandoning herself entirely 
to her arbitrary self-will, sent for the Marshal de la Meilleraie, 
and ordered him to take as many men as he chose and to 
ascertain the meaning ..of this plaisanterie. 

The Marshal was generally venturesome and fearless, having 
that haughty contempt for the populace which all the gentle- 
men of the sword professed toward it. He took a hundred and 
fifty men, and attempted to go out by the Pont du Louvre ; but 
there he encountered Bochefort and his fifty light horsemen, 
accompanied by more than fifteen hundred persons. There 


THE COMMOTION. 


421 


was no possibility of forcing such a barrier. The Marshal did 
not attempt it, but went up the quay. 

At the Pont-Neuf, however, he found Louvières and his 
citizens. This time the Marshal tried to charge ; but he was 
received with musket-shots, while stones fell like hail from all 
the windows. He there left three of his men. 

He retreated toward the market-place, but there he encoun- 
tered Planchet and his halberdiers, and the halberds were 
lowered against him in a threatening attitude. He attempted 
to ride over those grey cloaks ; but the grey cloaks held their 
ground, and the Marshal fell back toward the Eue St. Honoré, 
leaving on the field of battle four more of his Guards, who had 
been expeditiously put to the sword. 

Then he passed down the Eue Saint Honoré ; but there he 
came upon the barricades of the mendicant of Saint Eustache. 
They were guarded, not only by armed men, but also by women 
and children. Master Friquet, the possessor of a pistol and 
sword that Louvières had given him, had organized a band of 
young rascals like himself, and was making noise enough to 
destroy everything. 

The Marshal, deeming this position the worst guarded of all, 
resolved to attack it. He caused twenty of his men to dis- 
mount to force open the barricades, while he himself and the 
rest of his troop covered the assailants on horseback. The 
twenty men marched straight against the obstacle ; but there, 
from behind beams, between cart wheels, and from every 
elevated situation, a terrible firing broke out ; and at the noise 
of this firing Planchet’s halberdiers made their appearance at 
the corner of the cemetery of the Innocents, and the citizens of 
Louvières at the corner of the Eue de la Monnaie. 

The Maréchal de la Meilleraie was caught between two fires. 

The Maréchal de la Meilleraie was brave ; so he determined 
to die where he was. He returned shot for shot, and shrieks of 
pain began to be heard in the crowd. The Guards, in better 
practice, shot more accurately ; but the citizens, being more 
numerous, overwhelmed them with a perfect tempest of fire. 
Men fell around him as they might have fallen at Eocroy or 
Lérida. Fontrailles, his aide-de-camp, had his arm shattered ; 
his horse received a ball in the neck, and he had great diffi- 
culty in managing it, for the pain made it nearly frantic. In 
fine, they had reached that extreme point when the bravest 
feels a shudder in his veins and the cold moisture on his brow. 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


when suddenly the crowd opened in the direction of the Rue 
de r Arbre-sec, crying out, Vive le coadjuteur ! and Gondy, 
in rochet and purple hood, made his appearance, quietly pass- 
ing along through the midst of the firing, and distributing his 
benedictions from right to left with as much calmness as if he 
were leading the procession of Corpus Christi. 

All fell on their knees. 

The Marshal recognised him and hastened up to him. 

Help me out of this, for Heaven’s sake ! ” said he, or I 
shall leave my skin here, and all my men’s.” 

There was such a tumult that the rolling of Heaven’s own 
thunder could not have been heard. Gondy held up his hand 
and demanded silence. They were silent. 

“ My children,” said he, here is Monsieur le Maréchal de 
la Meilleraie, whose intentions you have misunderstood, and 
who undertakes, on entering the Louvre, to ask the Queen, in 
your name, to liberate our Broussel. Do you agree to this. 
Marshal ? ” added Gondy, turning towards La Meilleraie. 

^‘Morhleu ! ” cried he, indeed, I believe I ’ll agree to it. I 
did not expect to get off so cheaply.” 

He gives you his word as a gentleman,” said Gondy. 

The Marshal raised his hand in token of assent. 

Vive le coadjuteur ! ” shouted the crowd. Some voices 
even added, Vive le Maréchal ! ” but all took up the chorus, 
has le Mazarin ! ” — Down with Mazarin ! 

The crowd yielded ; the way by the Rue Saint Honoré was 
the shortest. The barricades were opened, and the Marshal, 
with the remains of his troop, made their retreat, preceded by 
Friquet and his banditti, some pretending to beat the drum, 
others imitating the sound of trumpets. 

It was almost a triumphal march; only the barricades were 
again closed behind the Guards. The Marshal gnawed his 
knuckles. 

All this time, as we have said, Mazarin was in his cabinet, ' 
putting his own trifling affairs into order. He had sent for , 
D’Artagnan, but, in the midst of all this tumult, he despaired ! 
of finding him, as D’Aj’tagnan was not on duty. In ten 
minutes, however, he appeared at the door, followed by his ! 
inseparable Porthos. 

“Ah! come, come, Monsou d’Artagnan,” exclaimed the 
Cardinal, “and welcome, as well as your friend. But what 
is going on in this cursed Paris ? ” 


THE COMMOTION. 


423 


“ What is going on, monsignor ? , Nothing good,” replied 
D’Artagnan, shaking his head. ‘‘The City is in open revolt; 
and just now, as I was crossing the Rue Montorgiieil with ]\I. 
dll Vallon, — whom you see here, and who is your devoted 
servant, — in spite of my uniform, and jierhaiis even on ac- 
count of my uniform, they tried to force us to cry out, ‘ Vive 
Broussel ! ’ And may I tell you, monsignor, what else they 
also tried to make us shout ? ” 

“ Tell it — tell it.” 

“ ‘ Down with Mazarin ! ’ Faith, that was the very word.” 

Mazarin smiled, but turned very pale. 

“ And you shouted ? ” said he. 

“Faith! no,” said D’Artagnan; “I was not in voice; and 
as M. dll Vallon has a cold, he did not shout either. Then, 
monsignor ” — 

“ Then what ? ” said Mazarin. 

“ Look at my hat and cloak.” 

And D’Artagnan pointed out four bullet-holes in his cloak 
and two in his hat. A blow from a halberd had cut down 
Porthos’s dress one side, and a pistol-shot had broken his 
plume. 

“ Diavolo ! ” said the Cardinal thoughtfully ; and looking at 
the two friends with an air of simple admiration : “ I am sure 
I should have shouted.” 

At this moment the noise of the tumult sounded nearer. 
Mazarin wiped his brow and looked around him. He would 
have liked to go to the window, but dared not. 

“ See what is going on, M. d’Artagnan,” said he. 

D’Artagnan went to the window with his habitual uncon- 
cern. 

“ Oho ! ” said he, “ what is this ? The Maréchal de la Meil- 
leraie returning without his hat ; Fontrailles carrying his 
arm in a sling; Guards wounded, horses covered ^ with blood. 
Eh ! but what are the sentinels doing ? They are aiming — 
they are going to fire ! ” 

“ Orders have been given,” said Mazarin, “ to fire on the 
people should they come near the Palais Royal.” 

“ But if they fire, all is lost I ” said D’Artagnan. 

“ We have the iron-barred gates.” 

“ The gates ! In five minutes those iron gates will be torn 
up, twisted, battered down — Do not fire, for God’s sake ! ” 
cried D’Artagnan, opening the window. 


424 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


In spite of this exhortation, which, in the midst of the 
tumult, could not have been heard, three or four musket-shots 
were fired ; then a terrible volley succeeded ; the balls were 
heard rattling against the front of the Palais Royal ; and one 
of them, passing under D’Artagnan’s arm, broke a mirror in 
which Porthos was looking at himself with great admiration. 

Oh, dear me ! ” cried the Cardinal — a Venetian 
mirror ! ” 

Oh ! monsignor,’’ said D’Artagnan calmly, closing the 
window, do not weep yet — it is not worth while ; for it is 
probable that in an hour hence there will not remain one of 
all these mirrors in the palace, whether they are Venetian or 
Parisian.” 

“ What is your advice, then ? ” asked the Cardinal, trem- 
bling all over. 

“ Eh, morbleu ! to give Broussel up to them, since they want 
him ! What the devil can you do with a parliamentary coun- 
cillor ? He is of no use.” 

‘‘And, M. du Vallon, is that your opinion? What would 
you do ? ” 

“ I should give up Broussel,” answered Porthos. 

“ Come, come, gentlemen,” said Mazarin, “ I will talk to the 
Queen about it.” 

At the end of the corridor he stopped. 

“ I can depend upon you — can I not, gentlemen? ” said he. 

“We do not give ourselves twice,” said D’Artagnan ; “ we 
are pledged to you; command and we will obey.” 

“Very well, then,” said Mazarin, “ enter that closet and 
wait.” 

And making a circuit, he passed into the salon by another 
door. 


CHAPTER L. 

THE COMMOTION BECOMES AN INSURRECTION. 

The closet into which D’Artagnan and Porthos were ushered 
was separated only by tapestry portières from the salon in 
which the Queen was. The slightness of the partition, there- 
fore, enabled them to hear all that passed, while the opening 
between the two curtains, though narrow, allowed them also 
to see. 


THE COMMOTION BECOMES AN INSURRECTION. 4^5 


The Queen, pale with anger, was standing in this salon ; and 
yet her self-command was so great that it might have been 
supposed she was altogether unmoved. Behind her were Com- 
minges, Villequier, and Guitaut ; behind the men were the 
ladies. 

Before her, the Chancellor Seguier (the same personage who, 
twenty years before, had so persecuted her) was relating how 
his carriage had just been broken to pieces, how he himself 
had been pursued, how he had thrown himself into the Hôtel 

d’O^ , and how the hôtel had been immediately carried by 

storm, pillaged, and devastated; fortunately he had time to 
gain a closet concealed in the tapestry, in which an old woman 
had shut him up, with his brother, the Bishop of Meaux. 
There the danger had been so imminent, the rioters having- 
approached this closet with such violent threats, that the 
Chancellor had thought his last hour was come, and, to be 
prepared for the death that would inevitably follow his dis- 
covery, had confessed to his brother. Fortunately, his fears 
were not realized: the people, supposing he had escaped by 
some back door, had retired, and enabled him to escape in 
safety. Then, disguising himself in some of the Marquis 

d’O ’s clothes, he left the hôtel, stepping over the body of 

his own exempt,^yvho, along with two Guards, had been killed 
in defending thé street door. 

During this recital Mazarin had entered and quietly glided 
up to the Queen, and was listening. 

^^Well,^^ demanded the Queen, when the Chancellor had 
finished, and what do you think of all this ? ’’ 

I think that it is a very serious affair, madame.’’ 

But what advice do you offer me ? ” 

I could offer your Majesty one piece of advice, but I dare 
not.” 

Oh, dare ! dare, sir ! ” said the Queen, with a bitter smile ; 

you were daring enough in another affair.” • 

The Chancellor coloured and stammered out some words. 

It is not with the past that we have now to do, but with 
the present,” said the Queen. You said that you could give 
me some advice : what is it ? ” 

Madame,” said the Chancellor, with great hesitation, it 
is to release Broussel.” 

The Queen, although very pale, visibly grew more so, and 
her face contracted. 


426 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Release Broussel ! ” said she ; never ! ’’ 

At this moment steps were heard in the antechamber, and, 
without being announced, the Maréchal de la Meilleraie ap- 
peared at the door. 

Ah, here you are. Marshal ! ” joyfully exclaimed Anne of 
Austria ; you have brought all this rabble to their senses, 1 
hope ? ” 

Madame,” said the Marshal, I have left three of my men 
on the Pont-Neuf, four in the market-place, six at the corner 
of the Rue de I’Arbte-Sec, and two at the gate of your 
palace, — in all, fifteen, — and I bring back ten or a dozen 
wounded men. My hat is gone, I know not where — it was 
carried off by a bullet ; and in all probability I should have 
shared the same fate as my hat had it not been for the coadju- 
tor, who came and rescued me.” 

Ah ! ” said the Queen, I should have been indeed 
astonished not to find that little bandy-legged terrier dog 
mixed up with all this.” 

Madame,” said La Meilleraie, laughing, do not speak too 
ill of him before me, for the service he has rendered me is as 
yet too recent.” 

That is all very well,” continued the Queen ; be as grate- 
ful as you please ; that is no concern of mine. Here you are, 
safe and sound, and that is all I require. Be not only wel- 
come, then, but luell come back.’’’ 

Yes, madame, but I am well come back only upon one con- 
dition ; which is, that I should convey to you the will of the 
people.” 

‘‘ The will of the people ! ” said Anne of Austria, frowning. 
Oho, Monsieur le Maréchal, you must have found yourself in 
great danger indeed to undertake this strange embassy ! ” 
These words were pronounced in a tone so ironical as not to 
escape the Marshaks observation. 

Pardon me, madame,” said he; am no advocate. I am 
a soldier, and therefore I am probably ignorant of the true 
meaning of words. I should have said the desire, and not the 
will, of the people. As for the remark you did me the honour 
to make, I believe that you meant that I was afraid.” 

The Queen smiled. 

Very well. Yes, madame, I was afraid. It is the third 
time in my life that this has occurred to me ; and yet I have 
been in twelve general actions, and I know not how many 


THE COMMOTION BECOMES AN INSURRECTION. 427 


(ioiiibats and skirmishes. Yes, I was afraid ; and I prefer 
even facing your Majesty, however menacing may be your 
smile, to being opposed to those demons of hell who accom- 
panied me here, and who come from I know not where ! ” 

“Bravo!” said D’Artagnan to Porthos, in a low voicè; 
“ well answered.” 

“Very well!” said the Queen, biting her lips, while the 
courtiers looked at each other with astonishment ; “ what is 
this desire of my people ? ” 

“ That Broussel be given up to them, madame,” replied the 
Marshal. 

“ Never ! ” exclaimed the Queen — “ never ! ” 

“ Your Majesty is the mistress,” said La Meilleraie, bowing 
and taking one step back. 

“ Where are you going. Marshal ? ” demanded the Queen. 

“ To deliver your Majesty’s reply to those who are waiting 
for it.” 

“ Bemain here, Marshal. I do not wish to appear to be 
treating with rebels.” 

“ Madame, I have pledged my word,” said the Marshal. 

“ Which means ” — 

“ That unless you order me to be arrested, I am compelled 
to return to them.” 

The eyes of Anne of Austria flashed like lightning. 

“ Oh, sir,” said she, “ do not calculate on that ! I have 
arrested greater men than yourself. Guitaut ! ” 

Mazarin rushed forward. 

“ Madame,” said he, “ if, in my turn, I dared to offer you 
some advice ” — 

“ Would it also be to release Broussel, sir-? In that case, 
you may spare yourself the trouble.” 

“ No,” said Mazarin ; “ although perhaps that is as good as 
any other.” 

“ What may it be, then ? ” 

“To send for the coadjutor.” 

“The coadjutor!” exclaimed the Queen; “that hideous 
marplot ? He is the one who has excited all this disturb- 
ance.” 

“ The more cogent reason why you should send for him,” 
replied Mazarin. “ If he has excited it, he can calm it.” 

“ And observe, madame,” said Pomminges, who was stand- 
ing near a window and looking out, — “ observe, it is a good 


428 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


opportunity ; for there he is giving his blessing on the Place of 
the Palais Eoyal.” 

The Queen darted to the window. 

It is true,” she cried. The consummate hypocrite ! 
Look at him ! ” 

“ I can perceive,” said Mazarin, ^Hhat every one is kneeling 
before him, although he is only the coadjutor ; while if I were 
in his place they would tear me to pieces, although I am a 
cardinal. Therefore, madame, I persist in my desire [Mazarin 
dwelt upon this word] that your Majesty would receive the 
coadjutor.” 

“ Why do not you also say your will ? ” demanded the 
Queen, in a low voice. 

Mazarin bowed. 

The Queen seemed for an instant absorbed in thought. 
Then raising her head : 

‘^’Monsieur le Maréchal,” said she, go for the coadjutor 
and bring him to me.” 

And what shall I say to the people ? ” demanded the Marshal. 

That they must have patience,” replied the Queen. I am 
sure that I have enough.” 

There was such an imperative accent in the voice of the 
haughty Spanish woman that the Marshal made no further 
observation, but bowed and left the room. 

D’Artagnan turned to Porthos. 

“ How will this end ? ” said he. 

“We shall soon see,” answered Porthos, in his tranquil 
manner. 

In the meantime Anne of Austria went to Comminges and 
spoke to him in a low voice. 

Mazarin, uneasy, looked toward D’Artagnan and Porthos. 

The rest were talking in low tones. 

The door opened again, and the Marshal appeared, followed 
by the coadjutor. 

“ Here, madame, is M. de Gondy,” said he, “ who hastens 
to obey your Majesty’s orders.” 

The Queen advanced a few steps toward him and stopped 
short, cold, severe, and motionless, with her under lip disdain- 
fully thrust forward. 

Gondy bowed respectfully. 

“Well, sir,” said the Queen, “ what do you say to this 
commotion ? ” 


THE COMMOTION BECOMES AN INSURRECTION. 42b 


“ That it is no longer a commotion, madame, but a revolt.’’ 

The revolt rests at the door of those who think that my 
people have the power to revolt,” exclaimed the Queen, inca- 
pable of dissimulating before the coadjutor, whom she consid- 
ered, and justly perhaps, as the promoter of all this dis- 
turbance. A revolt ! See what those call it who favour the 
commotion that they have themselves excited. But wait now, 
wait : the King’s authority will soon settle all this.” 

And is it to tell me this, madame,” coldly replied Gondy, 
that your Majesty has done me the honour of admitting me 
to your presence ? ” 

No, my dear coadjutor,” said Mazarin ; ‘‘ it is to ask your 
advice under the distressing circumstances in which we are 
placed.” 

“And is it true,” asked Gondy, feigning great astonish- 
ment, “ that her Majesty has sent for me to give her advice ? ” 

“ Yes,” said the Queen ; “they wished me to do so.” 

The coadjutor bowed. 

“ Her Majesty then desires ” — 

“ That you would inform her how you would act in her situ- 
ation,” hastily answered Mazarin. 

The coadjutor looked at the Queen, who gave an affirmative 
nod. 

“ Tn her Majesty’s place,” coolly replied Gondy, “ I should 
not hesitate — I should give up Broussel.” 

“ And if I do not give him up,” exclaimed the Queen, “ what 
do you think will happen ? ” 

“ I think that to-morrow not one stone will be left upon 
another in all Paris,” said the Marshal. 

“ I am not asking you,” said the Queen dryly, and without 
even turning her head ; “ I addressed M. de Gondy.” 

“ If her Majesty asks me,” said the coadjutor, with the 
same tranquillity, “ I tell her that my opinion exactly agrees 
with the Marshal’s.” 

The colour mounted into the Queen’s face; her beautiful 
eyes looked as if they were going to start out of her head ; 
her vermilion lips, compared by all the poets of the time to 
the blossom of the pomegranate, turned pale and trembled 
with rage; she almost frightened even Mazarin himself, ac- 
customed as he was to the domestic storms of this turbulent 
household. 

“ Give up Broussel ! ” she at length exclaimed, with a 


430 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


frightful smile ; excellent advice, by my faith ! It is evi- 
dent enough that it comes from a priest ! 

Gondy remained firm. The insults of the day seemed to 
roll from him like the sarcasms of the evening before. But 
hatred and revenge were silently gathering, drop by drop, at 
the bottom of his heart. He looked coldly at the Queen, who 
was urging Mazarin to say something in his turn. 

Mazarin, as usual, thought a good deal, and spoke but 
little. 

He ! he ! ” said he, it is good and friendly advice. I also 
would give up this worthy Monsou Broussel, dead or alive, 
and all would then be over.” 

If you gave him up dead, all would be over, as you say, 
monseigneur, but in a different way from what you expect.” 

Did I say dead or alive ? ” replied Mazarin ; “ a mere 
figure of speech. You know that I speak French badly, while 
you speak and write it so well, Monsou le Coadjuteur.” 

“ This is a fine cabinet council,” said D’Artagnan to Por- 
thos ; but we held much better ones at La Rochelle, with 
Athos and Aramis.” 

“ At the bastion of St. Gervais,” said Porthos. 

“There and elsewhere.” 

The coadjutor suffered the shower to pass on, and replied, 
with the same imperturbability : 

“ Madame, if your Majesty does not enjoy my advice, it is 
doubtless because you have better to follow. I am too well 
aware of the Queen’s wisdom, and of that of her counsellors, to 
suppose that the capital will be long left in such a state of 
tumult as may produce a revolution.” 

“ Therefore it is your opinion,” said the Queen, with a sneer 
and biting her lips with rage, “ that the commotion of yester- 
day, which is to-day a revolt, may to-morrow become a revo- 
lution ? ” 

“ Yes, madame,” gravely replied the coadjutor. 

“ Why, to hear you, sir, the people must have got beyond 
all restraint ! ” 

“ This is a bad year for kings,” said Gondy, shaking his 
head ; “ look at England, madame.” 

“ Yes ; but fortunately we have no Oliver Cromwell in 
France,” said the Queen. 

“ Who knows ? ” replied Gondy. “ Such men are like the 
thunder-bolt — they are only seen when they strike,” 


THE COMMOTION BECOMES AN INSURR. 


Every one shuddered, and there was a monger, 
during which the Queen pressed her hands again- 
evidently to repress the violent beatings of her 1' 

Porthos,” said D’Artagnan^ ^‘look at that pr’ 

‘‘ I see him,” said Porthos ; “ what about it ? ’ 

Well, he is a man ! ” 

Porthos looked at his friend with astonishment ; it ». ^ x 

dent that he did not clearly understand what he meant. ‘ 

Your Majesty,” continued the merciless coadjutor, is 
therefore about to pursue the measures that seem to you most 
expedient ; but I can foresee that they are terrible, and of a 
nature to increasè the irritation of the rebels.” 

‘^Well then. Monsieur le Coadjuteur, you who have such 
vast influence over them, and who are our friend,” said the 
Queen ironically, you will calm them by giving them your 
benedictions.” 

“ Perhaps it will be too late,” said Gondy, still like ice ; 
perhaps I shall have lost all my influence over them ; while 
by giving up Broussel, your Majesty will sever the roots of 
the sedition, and will acquire the right of severely chastising 
any fresh access of revolt.” 

Have I not then this right ? ” exclaimed the Queen. 

If you have, use it,” replied Gondy. 

Peste ! ” said D’Artagnan to Porthos ; there is a char- 
acter I like. Why is he not minister, and why am I not his 
D’Artagnan, instead of belonging to that scoundrel Mazarin ? 
Ah, mordieu ! the fine strokes we would make together ! ” 

Yes,” said Porthos. 

The Queen, by a sign, dismissed the Court, except Mazarin. 
Gondy bowed and was retiring with the others. 

Eemain, sir,” said the Queen. 

“ Good,” thought Gondy to himself ; she is going to 
yield.” 

She is going to kill him,” said D’Artagnan to Porthos ; 
but at all events not by my aid. On the contrary, I swear 
to God that if any one attacks him I will fall on the assail- 
ants.” 

And so will I,” said Porthos. 

Good,” muttered Mazarin, seating himself ; “ now we shall 
see something fresh.” 

The Queen looked after those who were leaving the room ; 
when the last had shut the door she turned round. It was 


mTY YEARS AFTER. 


as making incredible efforts to subdue 
ned herself, inhaled her perfumery, and 
h. Mazarin remained seated, apparently 
i^ho was beginning to be somewhat uneasy, 
lestry with his looks, felt of the cuirass 
/nis long robe, and, from time to time, felt 
hood or scarf to be certain that the handle 
nagger which he had concealed there was ready 

grasp. 

“Now let us see,’’ said the Queen, at length stopping short, 
— “let us see, now that we are alone ; repeat your advice. 
Monsieur le Coadjuteur.” 

“ It is this, madame : pretend that you have reflected, con- 
fess publicly that you have made a mistake, — for this is the 
power of strong governments, — release Broussel from prison, 
and restore him to the people.” 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed Anne of Austria, “ thus to humble my- 
self ! Am I, or am I not. Queen ? All this howling rabble, 
is it, or is it not, the mass of my subjects ? Have I any 
friends — any Guards ? Ah, by our Lady, as said Queen Cath- 
erine,” she continued, warming at her own words, “ rather than 
give them up this infamous Broussel I would strangle him 
with mine own hands ! ” 

And she stretched her clenched hands at Gondy, whom she 
at that moment detested quite as much as Broussel. 

Gondy remained perfectly unmoved ; not a muscle of his 
countenance changed; but his icy look crossed the Queen’s 
furious glance like a cimeter. 

“There would be a dead man, if there were still a Vitry at 
Court and he should enter at this moment,” said the Gascon. 
“ But before he reached the good prelate I should kill Vitry on 
the spot ; the Cardinal would be infinitely obliged to me for it.” 

“ Hush ! ” said Porthos ; “ just listen.” 

“ Madame ! ” cried the Cardinal, seizing hold of Anne of Aus- 
tria and drawing her back, — “ madame, what are you doing ? ” 
Then he added in Spanish : “ Anne, are you mad ? You are 
here wrangling like a citizen’s wife — you, a queen ! Do you 
not see that you have before you, in the person of this priest, 
all the people of Paris, whom it is dangerous to insult at this 
moment ; and that, if this priest wills it, in one hour you will 
no longer have a crown ? Come, then ; by and by, on another 
occasion, you may be firm and resolute, but this is not the time. 


THE COMMOTION BECOMES AN INSURRECTION. 433 


Now you must flatter and caress, or you are only a woinai; of 
vulgar mind.” 

At the first words of this speech D’Artagnan had seized 
Porthos’s arm, and had continued gradually squeezing it. 
Then, when Mazarin had finished : Porthos,” said he in a 
very low voice, never let Mazarin know that I understand 
Spanish, or I am a lost man, and you also.” 

Good ! ” answered Porthos. 

This rough admonition — delivered with a species of elo- 
quence characteristic of Mazarin when he used Spanish or Ital- 
ian, but which he entirely lost when using French — was 
spoken with an unmoved countenance, which did not permit 
Gondy, skilful physiognomist as he, was, to suspect that it was 
anything but a simple recommendation to be more moderate. 

On her part, also, the Queen, thus rudely admonished, sud- 
denly calmed herself. She, as it were, let the fire drop from 
her eyes, the blood from her cheeks, and the wordy anger from 
her lips. She sat down, letting her arms fall powerless by her 
sides, and in a voice stifled by her tears : 

Pardon me. Monsieur le Coadjuteur,” she said, and attrib- 
ute this violence to what I suffer. A woman, and therefore 
subject to the weakness of my sex, I am frightened at the 
bare idea of a civil war ; a queen, and accustomed to obedi- 
ence, I am aroused by the first appearance of opposition.” 

“ Madame,” said Gondy, bowing, ‘‘ your Majesty deceives 
yourself when you term my sincere advice opposition to your 
will. Your Majesty has none but the most submissive and 
respectful subjects. The people do not blame the Queen : 
they ask for Broussel — that is all ; and will be only too happy 
to live under your Majesty’s laws; provided, however, that 
your Majesty gives them up Broussel ! ” added Gondy, smiling. 

Mazarin, who had pricked up his ears at the words, tJie 
people do not blame the Queen,^ and imagined that the 
coadjutor was going to speak of the cries of ‘‘ Down with 
Mazarin ! ” Avas grateful to Gondy for this suppression, and now 
said, in his silkiest voice and with his most gracious smile : 

Madame, trust the coadjutor, who is one of our most skil- 
ful noliticians. The first cardinal’s hat that may be vacant 
jibted for his noble head.” 

'Ah ! what need you have of me, you cunning rascal ! ” 
tiio igld: Gondy. 

All I what will he promise us,” said D’Artagnan, ‘‘ on the 


434 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


day they shall want to kill him ! Peste ! if he gives away 
hats ill this manner, let us prepare ourselves, Porthos, and 
each of us ask for a regiment to-morrow. Corbleu ! if the 
civil war lasts but a year, I will have the Constable’s sword 
regilded for myself.” 

And for me ? ” asked Porthos. 

“You ? I will give you the baton of the Maréchal de la 
Meilleraie, who appears to me not to be in great favour at this 
present moment.” 

“ So, sir,” said the Queen, “ you fear this popular excite- 
ment ? ” 

“ Seriously, madame ! ” replied Gondy, astonished at finding 
himself no further advanced, “ I fear lest it should cause 
great ravages when the torrent has broken its banks.” 

“ And I,” said the Queen — “ I think that in this case it is 
necessary to interpose fresh embankments. Go ! I will con- 
sider of it.” 

Gondy looked at Mazarin in astonishment. Mazarin ap- 
proached the Queen to speak to her. At this moment a fright- 
ful tumult was heard in the Place du Palais Royal. 

Gondy smiled ; the Queen’s countenance became inflamed ; 
Mazarin turned pale. 

“ What is the matter now ? ” said he. 

Comminges rushed into the room. 

“ Pardon me, madame,” said Comminges to the Queen as he 
entered ; “ the people have dashed the sentinels to pieces 
against the iron rails, and are at this moment forcing the 
gates. What orders do you give ? ” 

“ Listen, madame ! ” said Gondy. 

The roaring of the waves, the crash of thunder, the bellow- 
ings of a volcano, cannot be compared to the storm of shouts 
that ascended to the heavens at that moment. 

“ What do I command ? ” said the Queen. 

“ Yes, madame ; there is no time to lose.” 

“ How many men have you in the Palais Royal ? ” 

“ Six hundred.” 

“ Place one hundred round the King, and with the re ir cinder 
sweep me away this populace.” 

“ Madame,” said Mazarin, “ what are you doing the if V 

“ Go ! ” said the Queen. 

Comminges left the room with the passive obedience ol the 
soldier. 


THE COMMOTION BECOMES AN INSURRECTION. 435 

At this moment a horrible crash was heard; one of the gates 
began to give way. 

Ah, madame ! ” said Mazarin, you have destroyed us all ! 
— the King, and yourself, and me ! ” 

Anne of Austria, at this exclamation, which came from the 
heart of the terrified Cardinal, began to be frightened herself. 
She recalled Comminges. 

It is too late ! ” said Mazarin, tearing his hair, — it is too 
late I” 

The gate gave way, and they heard the triumphant howlings 
of the populace. D’Artagnan put his hand to his sword, and 
made a sign to Porthos to do the same. 

Save the Queen ! ” cried Mazarin, addressing the coadjutor. 

Gondy rushed to the window and opened it. He recognised 
Louvières at the head of from three to four thousand men. 

“Kot one step farther!” he cried; ‘Hhe Queen is signing.” 

What are you saying ? ” exclaimed the Queen. 

The truth, madame,” said Mazarin, putting paper and pen 
before her ; it is necessary.” Then he added : Sign, Anne, 
I beseech you ! I will have it so ! ” 

The Queen fell into a chair, took the pen, and signed. 

Kestrained by Louvières, the people had not advanced one 
step farther ; but that terrible murmur, indicative of popular 
rage, still continued. 

The Queen wrote: ^‘The jailer of the prison of Saint Ger- 
main will liberate the councillor Broussel.” And she signed it. 

The coadjutor, who devoured her slightest motion with his 
eyes, seized the paper as soon as it was signed, returned to the 
window, and waving it with his hand : 

Here is the order ! ” said he. 

All Paris seemed to utter one vast shout of joy ; then the 
cries, Vive Broussel ! ” Vive le coadjuteur ! ” resounded. 

Vive la Reine ! ” said the coadjutor. 

Some voices responded to his, but faint and rare. 

Perhaps the coadjutor himself uttered this cry only to make 
the Queen more fully sensible of her weakness: 

And now that you have got what you wanted,” said she, 
go. Monsieur Gondy ! ” 

>^When the Queen again requires me,” said the coadjutor, 
bowing, ^^her Majesty knows that I am at her command.” 

The Queen bowed and Gondy retired. 

Ah ! accursed priest ! ” exclaimed Anne of Austria, stretch* 


436 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


ing out her hand toward the scarcely closed door, I will one 
day make you drink the dregs of that gall you have poured 
out for me to-day.” 

Mazarin wished to approach her. 

Leave me ! ” cried she ; you are not a man ! ” 

And she left the room. 

You are not a woman,” muttered Mazarin. 

Then, after a moment’s reflection, he remembered that 
D’Artagnan and Porthos were in the closet, and must, conse- 
quently, have heard and seen everything. He frowned, and 
went straight to the tapestry, which he lifted. The closet was 
empty. 

At the Queen’s last word D’Artagnan had seized Porthos by 
the hand and dragged him into the gallery. 

Thither Mazarin now followed them, and found the two 
friends walking up and down. 

“ Why did you leave the closet, M. d’Artagnan ? ” said 
Mazarin. 

“Because,” answered D’Artagnan, “the Queen commanded 
every one to leave the room ; and I thought the command 
applied to us as well as to the others.” 

“ So you have been here ” — 

“ About a quarter of an hour,” said D’Artagnan, looking at 
Porthos and making him a sign not to contradict him. 

Mazarin perceived the sign, and was convinced that D’Ar- 
tagnan had seen and heard everything; yet he was obliged to 
him for the falsehood. 

“ M. d’Artagnan,” said he, “ you are exactly the man I 
wanted, and you may rely upon me, and your friend as well.” 

Then, bowing to the two friends with his most charming 
smile, he returned to his cabinet much more tranquil ; for on 
the appearance of Gondy the tumult had ceased as if by 
enchantment. 


CHAPTEB LI. 

MISFORTUNE A HELP TO MEMORY. 

Anne had returned to her oratory actually furious. 

“ What ! ” she exclaimed, wringing her beautiful hands, — 
“what! The people saw M. de Condé, the first Prince of the 
blood, arrested by my mother-in-law, Marie de’ Medicis ; they 


MISFOHTUNE A HELP TO MEMORY. 437 


saw my motlier-iii-law herself, the former Regent, driven away 
by the Cardinal ; they saw M. de Vendôme, that is to say, the 
son of Henry IV., a prisoner at Vincennes — and they said 
nothing while these great persons were insulted, imprisoned, 
and threatened ! Yet for a Bronssel ! — oh, my God ! what, 
then, has become of royalty ? ” 

Anne, without knowing it, touched the heart of the trouble. 
The people had said nothing for the princes, but they rose for 
Broussel because the question concerned a plebeian, and by 
defending Broussel they instinctively felt that they were 
defending themselves. 

In the meantime Mazarin was walking up and down his 
cabinet, looking from time to time at his beautiful Venetian 
mirror, all starred and shattered. 

^^Ah!’’ he was saying, ^Gt is very melancholy, I know it 
well enough, to be forced to yield in this manner. But, bah ! 
we shall have our revenge. Of what consequence is Broussel ? 
It is a name and not a principle.” 

Skilful politician as he was, Mazarin was this time mistaken. 
Broussel was a principle and not a name. 

So when Broussel reentered Paris on the following day, in 
a large coach, with his son Bouvières by his side and Friquet 
behind the carriage, all the people rushed armed to meet him. 
The cries od “ Vive Broussel ! ” Long live our father ! ” re- 
sounded from every quarter, and brought death to Mazarin ’s 
ears. The CardinaPs spies, and the Queen’s, brought vexatious 
intelligence from all quarters, and found the Cardinal much 
agitated and the Queen very calm. The Queen appeared to be 
maturing some great resolution, and this redoubled Mazarin’s 
anxiety. He well knew the haughty Princess, and much 
dreaded the resolves of Anne of Austria. 

The coadjutor had entered the Parliament more truly King 
than the King, the Queen, and Mazarin united. By his advice 
an edict was passed, inviting the people to lay aside their arms 
and to demolish the barricades. It was now known that it 
would need only one hour to resume their arms, and only one 
night to restore the barricades. 

Planch et had returned to his shop. The victory brings am- 
nesty. Planchet had therefore no longer any fears of hanging ; 
and, moreover, he was convinced that if they only threatened 
to arrest him the people would rise in his favour, as they had 
just done for Broussel. 


438 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Eochefort had restored his light horsemen to the Chevalier 
d’Humières ; two of the number did not answer to the muster- 
call ; but the chevalier, who was at heart a Frondeur, would 
not hear to any indemnity. 

The mendicant had resumed his place in the porch of Saint 
Eustache, distributing, as usual, his holy water with one hand 
and asking alms with the other ; and no one suspected that 
those two hands had just been aiding in pulling from the social 
edifice the foundation stone of royalty. 

Louvieres was proud and contented. He had avenged him- 
self on Mazarin, whom he detested, and had greatly contributed 
to the liberation of his father. His name had been mentioned 
with terror at the Palais Koyal ; and he laughingly said to the 
councillor, now restored to his family : 

^‘Do you believe, father, that if I were now to ask the 
Queen for a company she would give it me ? ” 

H’Artagnan had taken advantage of the tranquillity to 
despatch Eaoul, whom he had had great difficulty in keeping 
quiet during the disturbance, and who absolutely insisted on 
drawing his sword for one party or the other. Eaoul had at 
first resisted ; but when D’Artagnan spoke in the Count’s 
name, Eaoul paid Madame de Chevreuse a visit, and then de- ; 
parted for the army. ! 

Eochefort alone considered the affair badly finished. He | 
had written to the Due de Beaufort, who was momentarily ex- | 
pected, and would find Paris in a state of tranquillity. So he i 
went to the coadjutor, to ask him whether it would not now be 
better to send to the Prince, to advise him not to come ; but 
Gondy said, after reflecting an instant : 

Let him continue his journey.” 

Why, is n’t it all over ? ” asked Eochefort. I 

“ Why, my dear Count, we are as yet only at the beginning.” 

What makes you think so ? ” 

The knowledge I have of the Queen’s heart ^ she will not 
remain beaten.” 

Is she preparing anything ? ” 

I hope so.” 

^ What do you know ? Tell me.” 

I know that she has written to the Prince, requesting him 
to return from the army as speedily as possible.” 

Ah ! ” said Eochefort, you are right ; we must let M. de 
Beaufort come up.” 


MISFORTUNE A HELP TO MEMORY. 


439 


The very evening of this conversation the news spread that 
the Prince had arrived. 

This was very simple and natural, and yet it caused an im- 
mense sensation. It was said that indiscretions had been com- 
mitted by Madame de Longueville, to whom the Prince, her 
brother, had made confidential communications, for he was 
accused of loving her more ardently than a brother should. 

These confidences related to sinister projects on the part of 
the Queen. 

The evening of the Prince’s arrival, the most influential 
citizens, the sheriffs and the ward captains, visited their ac- 
quaintances, saying : 

“ Why should we not take the King and place him in the 
Hôtel de Ville ? We are wrong to allow him to be educated 
by our enemies, who give him bad counsel ; while if he were 
directed by the coadjutor, for example, he would imbibe 
national principles, and would love his people.” 

There was a secret agitation during the night, and on the 
next day the grey and black cloaks, the patrols of armed 
shopkeepers, and the bands of mendicants reappeared. 

The Queen had passed the night in a strictly private confer- 
ence with the Prince, who had been introduced into her oratory 
at midnight, and did not leave it till five o’clock. 

At that hour the Queen went to the Cardinal’s cabinet. If 
she, on her part, had not gone to bed, the Cardinal, on his, was. 
already up. 

He was writing an answer to Cromwell ; six days had al- 
ready slipped away of the ten which he had requested Mordaunt 
to wait. 

‘‘ Bah !” he was saying ; I shall have made him wait a 
little ; but Cromwell knows too much about revolutions not to 
excuse me.” 

He was therefore reading with satisfaction the first para- 
graph of his reply, when he was interrupted by a gentle 
knocking at the door which communicated with the Queen’s 
apartments. Anne of Austria was the only person who could 
come by that door ; the Cardinal arose and opened it. 

The Queen was in négligé, but the costume was not unbe- 
coming ; for, like Diane de Poitiers and Ninon de l'Enclos, Anne 
of Austria preserved the privilege of being always beautiful. 
This morning, however, she was more beautiful than usual, for 
her eyes had all that brilliancy that follows from inward joy. 


440 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


What is the matter, madame ? ” said Mazarin, somewhat 
anxiously ; you have a very proud look.’’ . ' 

“ Yes, Giulio,” said she, proud and happy ; for I have 
found a method of stifling this hydra.” 

You are a great politician, my Queen,” said Mazarin ; let 
us hear this method.” 

And he concealed what he had written, by slipping the letter 
under some blank paper. 

“ They wish to take the King from me ; did you know'it ? ” 
said the Queen. 

Alas, yes ! and to hang me.” 

They shall not have the King.” 

“ And they shall not hang me, henone ! ” 

“ Listen. I want to carry away from them my son, and my- 
self, and you with us. I wish that this event, which to-day or 
to-morrow will change the aspect of affairs, should be accom- 
plished without any one knowing it, except you, and myself, 
and a third person.” 

And who is this third person ? ” 

The Prince.” 

Has he come, as I have been told ? ” 

He came yesterday evening.” 

And have you seen him ? ” 
have just left him.” 

And does he approve of this project ? ” 

It is his advice.” 

And Paris ? ” 

He will starve it, and compel it to surrender at discre- 
tion.” 

The project is not deficient in grandeur, and I can perceive 
only one impediment.” 

What ? ” 

Its impossibility.” 

A word entirely void of meaning. Nothing is impos- 
sible ! ” 

“ In design.” 

^^Tn execution ! Have we any money ? ” 

A little,” said Mazarin, fearing lest Anne of Austria 
should want to dip deeply intb his purse. 

“ Have we any troops ? ” 

Five or six thousand men.” 

Have we any courage ? ” 


MISFORTUNE A HELP TO MEMORY. 441 

Abundance.’’ 

Then the thing is done. Oh ! can you conceive, Giulio, — 
Paris — this odious Paris — awaking some morning without 
Queen, without King ; invested, besieged, famished ; having 
for all and only resource its stupid Parliament and its lean, 
bandy-legged coadjutor ! ” 

Delightful ! delightful ! ” said Mazarin ; “ I can conceive 
the effect, but do not perceive the means of accomplishing it.” 

I will find them.” 

You understand that it is war — civil war — furious, des- 
perate, and implacable ? ” 

Oh, yes, yes, war ! ” said Anne of Austria ; yes, I wish 
to reduce this rebellious City to ashes ; I wish to quench the 
fire in blood ; I wish that a fearful example should immortalise 
the crime by the punishment. Paris ! I hate it — I detest 
it ! ” 

All very fine, Anne. You are indeed sanguinary ! But 
take care : we are not in the times of the Malatesta, or of the 
Castruccio Castracani. You will get your head cut off, my 
fair Queen, and that would be a pity.” 

You are laughing.” 

I laugh but very little. A war against an entire people is 
1 a dangerous thing. Look at your brother, Charles I. He is 
I in a bad state, a very bad state.” 

We are in Prance, and I am Spanish.” 

So much the worse, per Baceo ! so much the worse. I 
should much prefer your being a Frenchwoman and myself a 
Frenchman ; they would hate us both much less.” 

And yet you approve of the plan ?” 

Yes, if I saw that it was practicable.” 

It is so, I tell you ; so prepare for your departure.” 

Me ! I am always ready to go ; only you know wel] enough 
I shall never go — and this time, probably, no more than the 
others.” 

But, after all, if I go, will you not go too ? ” 

I will try.” 

You kill me with your fears, Giulio ; and what, after all, 
are you afraid of ? ” 

Of many things.” 

What are they ? ” 

Mazarin’s countenance, from sarcastic, became serious. 

Anne,” said he, you are only a woman ; and, as a woman, 


442 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


you may insult men as you please, being sure of impunity. 
You accuse me of fear ; I have not so much as you have, since 
I do not run away. Against whom are they crying out ? Is 
it against you or against me ? ‘ Whom do they wish to hang ? 
Is it you or I ? Well, then, I face the storm — I, whom you 
accuse of fear ; but not like a braggadocio ; that is not my 
way ; I keep firm. Imitate me, then : not so much show, and 
more reality. You call out loud enough, but it ends in nothing. 
You talk of flying ! ’’ 

Mazarin shrugged his shoulders, took the Queen’s hand and 
led her to the window. 

Look ! ” 

Well ? ” said the Queen, blinded by her obstinacy. 

Well, what do you see from this window ? If I am not 
mistaken, the citizens, with cuirasses and helmets, and armed 
with good muskets, as in the times of the League, and who are 
looking so earnestly at this window that you will be seen if 
you lift the curtains so high. Now, come to the other window. 
What do you see ? People armed with halberds, guarding 
your gates. At every outlet from this palace, to which I 
could lead you, you would find the same thing. Your gates 
are guarded ; even the air-holes of your cellars are guarded ; 
and I might say to you, as the good La Ramée said of M. de 
Beaufort, unless you become a bird or a mouse you will not 
get out.” 

And yet he got out.” 

And do you reckon on getting out in the same manner ? ” 

So I am a prisoner ? ” 

“ Parblieu ! ” said Mazarin, I have been proving it to you 
for an hour.” 

And Mazarin quietly resumed the writing of his despatch. 

Anne, Jbrembling with anger, flushed with humiliation, left 
the cabinet, violently slamming the door behind her. 

Mazarin did not even turn his head. 

Having reached her apartments, the Queen threw herself 
into a chair and began to weep. 

Then in an instant, as* if struck by a sudden idea : 

I am saved ! ” she cried, springing up. Yes, yes ! I 
know a man who will find means to get me out of Paris — a 
man whom I have too long forgotten.” Then she added, in a 
thoughtful tone, yet with a feeling of joy : Ungrateful that 
I am ! For twenty years have I forgotten this man, whom I 


THE INTERVIEW. 


443 


ought to have made a marshal of France. My mother-in-law 
lavished gold, titles, and caresses on Concini, who destroyed 
her ; the King made Vitry a marshal of France for an assassi- 
nation ; and I — I have left in Oblivion, in poverty, that noble 
D'Artagnan, who saved me ! ’’ 

And she hastened to a table, on which were paper and ink, 
and began to write. 


CHAPTER LII. 

THE INTERVIEW. 

That morning D’Artagnan was sleeping in Porthos’s 
chamber. It was a custom that the two friends had adopted 
since the disturbances. Their swords were under the bolster, 
and their pistols were on a table within reach of their hands. 

D’Artagnan was still asleep and dreaming that the sky was 
covered by a large yellow cloud, that a shower of gold was 
falling from this cloud, and that he was holding his hat under 
a rain-spout. 

Porthos, on his part, was dreaming that the panels of his 
carriage were not large enough for the arms which he was get- 
ting painted on them. 

They were awoke at seven o’clock by a valet without livery, 
who brought a letter for D’Artagnan. 

From whom ? ” inquired the Gascon. 

From the Queen,” answered the valet. 

Hein ! ” said Porthos, raising himself up in his bed, what 
does he say ? ” 

D’Artagnan requested the valet to go into an adjoining 
room, and when he had closed the door he jumped out of bed 
and read rapidly, while Porthos kept looking at him with all 
his eyes, not daring to question him. 

Friend Porthos,” said D’Artagnan, holding out the letter 
to him, here, at last, is your title of baron and my brevet of 
captain. There — read and judge for yourself.” 

Porthos stretched out his hand, took the letter, and read 
these words in a trembling voice : ^ 

The Queen wishes to speak with M. dlArtagnan. Let him 
follow the hearer T 


444 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Well ! said Porthos, see nothing extraordinary in that.’^ 

I see much that is extraordinary in it,” said D’Artagnan. 

If they send for me, it is because things are in great per- 
plexity ! Only think a little : what a vast disturbance there 
must be in the Queen’s mind to cause her to think of me after 
twenty years.” 

That is true,” said Porthos. 

Sharpen your sword, baron, load your pistols, give some 
oats to your horses. I answer for it that you will hear some 
news before to-morrow ; and motus ! ” 

Ah ! but is it not a snare that they are laying to get rid of 
us ? ” said Porthos, always thinking of the annoyance that his 
future grandeur would cause to some other person. 

If it is a trap,” replied D’Artagnan, make yourself easy ; 
I will smell it out. If Mazarin is an Italian, I am a Gascon.” 

And D’Artagnan dressed in a twinkling. 

While Porthos, still in bed, was clasping his cloak for him, 
there was- another knock at the door. 

Come in ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

A sec(^nd valet entered. 

Prom his Eminence Cardinal Mazarin,” said he. 

D’Artagnan looked at Porthos. 

Ah ! here is a complication,” said Porthos ; which will you 
do first ? ” 

This falls out admirably well,” replied D’Artagnan ; his 
Eminence makes an appointment with me for half an hour 
hence.” 

Good.” 

My friend,” said D’Artagnan, turning to the valet, tell 
his Eminence that in half an hour I shall be at his service.” 

The valet bowed and left the room. 

It is very fortunate that he did not see the other,” said 
D’Artagnan. 

Why, do you think they do not both send for you for the 
same purpose ? ” 

I do not think so ; I am certain of it.” 

^^Come, come, D’Artagnan, quick! Eemember that the 
Queen is waiting for you ; after the Queen, the Cardinal : and 
after the Cardinal, I.” 

D’Artagnan called the Queen’s valet. 

Here I am, my friend,” said he ; conduct me to her 
Majesty.” 





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THE INTERVIEW. 


445 


The valet conducted him by the Eue des Petits-Champs, and, 
turning to the left, made him enter by a little garden door that 
opened into the Eue Eichelieu. Then they gained a private 
staircase, and D’Artagnan was introduced into the oratory. 

A certain emotion, for which he could not account, made the 
lieutenant’s heart beat. He had no longer the confidence of 
youth, and experience had taught him all the gravity of the 
events that had happened. He well knew what the dignity of 
princes and the majesty of kings really were ; he had accus- 
tomed himself to class his own mediocrity after the splendours 
of fortune and birth. Formerly he would have approached 
Anne of Austria as a young man addresses a woman. Now it 
was quite another thing : he came to her as a humble soldier to 
an illustrious chieftain. 

A slight noise broke the silence of the oratory. D’Artagnan 
started, and saw a white hand lifting up the tapestry, and, by 
its shape, whiteness, and beauty, he recognised that royal hand 
which had one day been given him to kiss. 

The Queen entered. 

It is you. Monsieur D’Artagnan,” said she, fixing on the 
officer a look full of touching melancholy ; it is you — I re- 
member you well. Look at me,” she continued ; “ I am the 
Queen. Do you remember me ? ” 

No, madame,” replied D’Artagnan. 

But do you no longer know,” continued Anne of Austria, 
in that fascinating tone that, when she chose, she could impart 
to her voice, that the Queen formerly wanted a young cava- 
lier, brave and devoted; that she found this cavalier; and, 
although heunight imagine she had forgotten him, that she has 
kept a place for him at the bottom of her heart ? ” 

No, madame, I do not know that,” replied the Musketeer. 

So much the worse, sir,” continued Anne of Austria, so 
much the worse, at least for the Queen ; for the Queen has 
now need of the same courage and of the same devotion.” 

What ! ” said D’Artagnan ; the Queen, surrounded as she is 
by such devoted followers, such wise counsellors — men, in 
fine, so great by their merit or by their position, — does her 
Majesty deign to cast her eyes on an obscure soldier ?” 

Anne understood this concealed reproach ; she was more 
touched than irritated by it. So much self-denial and disin- 
terestedness, on the part of the Gascon gentleman, had often 
humbled her ; she had let herself be vanquished in generosity. 


446 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


All that you say to me about those who surround me, Mon- 
sieur d’Artagnan, is perhaps true,” said the Queen ; but I have 
confidence in you alone. I know that you are devoted to the 
Cardinal ; be so to me also, and I take charge of your fortune. 
Come, would you do for me now what that young gentleman 
whom you do not know did formerly for the Queen ? ” 

I will do everything that your Majesty may command,” 
said D’Artagnan. 

The Queen reflected a moment, and seeing the Musketeer’s 
guarded manner : 

Perhaps you love repose ? ” she asked. 

I do not know, for I have never had any, madame.” 

Have you any friends ? ” 

I had three. Two have left Paris, and I know not where 
they are gone. One only remains ; it is one of those who 
knew, I believe, the cavalier of whom your Majesty has done 
me the honour to speak.” 

^^Very well,” said the Queen; ^^you and your friend are 
worth an army.” 

And what am I to do, madame ? ” 

“ Keturn at five o’clock and I will tell you. But do not 
speak to a living soul, sir, of the appointment I have made 
with you.” 

No, madame.” 

Swear it by your Saviour.” 

Madame, I have never broken my word. When I say No, 
it is No.” 

The Queen, though astonished at this language, for her 
courtiers had not accustomed her to it, drew from it a happy 
omen of the zeal that D’Artagnan would display in her ser- 
vice for the accomplishment of her project. It was one of the 
Gascon’s artifices sometimes to conceal his profound subtilty 
under the appearance of a loyal frankness. 

‘‘ Has the Queen no further commands at present ? ” he 
asked. 

No, sir,” replied Anne of Austria, and you may retire 
until the time I have mentioned.” 

D’Artagnan bowed and left the room. 

Diable ! ” said he, when he was at the door ; it seems 
that they have great need of me here.” 

Then, as the half-hour had elapsed, he crossed the gallery 
and knocked at the Cardinal’s door. 


THE INTERVIEW. 


447 


Bernouin ushered him in. 

I am come at your command, monsignor,’’ said he. 

And, according to his usual habit, he cast a rapid glance all 
about, and perceived that Mazarin had a sealed letter before 
him. It was, however, laid on the desk on the written side, 
so that it was impossible to see to whom it was directed. 

Are you come from the Queen ? ” asked Mazarin, looking 
earnestly at D’Artagnan. 

I, monsignor ? Who told you so ? ” 

“ No one ; but I know it.” 

I am extremely sorry to tell monsignor that he is mis- 
taken,” replied the Gascon, with the greatest audacity, and 
strong in the promise that he had just made Anne of Austria. 

I opened the door of the antechamber myself, and saw you 
coming from the end of the gallery.” 

It is because I was brought up by the private staircase.” 

And why was that ? ” 

I do not know ; it must have been by some mistake.” 

Mazarin knew that it was not easy to make D’Artagnan tell 
what he wished to conceal ; he therefore gave up, for the 
moment, the attempt to discover the secret that the Gascon 
kept from him. 

Let us speak of my business,” said the Cardinal, since 
you will not tell me anything of your own.” 

D’Artagnan bowed. 

Are you fond of travelling ? ” asked the Cardinal. 

I have passed my life on the highways.” 

Would anything keep you in Paris ? ” 

Nothing would keep me here except a superior order.” 

Very well ; here is a letter which must be delivered accord- 
ing to its address.” 

To its address, monsignor ? But there is none.” 

In fact, the side opposite the seal was without any writing 
whatever. 

“ That is to say,” replied Mazarin, there is a double en- 
velope.” 

I understand ; and I must tear open the first when I have 
reached a given place.” 

Exactly so. Take it and depart. You have a friend, M. 
du Vallon, whom I greatly esteem ; you will take him with 
you.” 

Diable ! ” said D’Artagnan to himself ; he knows that we 


448 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


heard his conversation yesterday, and wishes to remove us 
from Paris.” 

Do you hesitate ? ” demanded Mazarin. 

‘^No, monsignor, and I will depart immediately. But I 
should wish one thing ” — 

And what is that ? Tell me.” 

It is that monsignor would go to the Queen.” 

“When?” 

“ Immediately.” 

“What for?” 

“ Only to say these words to her : ^ I am sending M. 
d’Artagnan somewhere, and I have ordered him to set off 
instantly.’ ” 

“ It is now evident enough,” said Mazarin, “ that you have 
seen the Queen.” 

“ I have had the honour to inform your Eminence that there 
has possibly been a mistake.” 

“ What does that mean ? ” demanded Mazarin. 

“ May I venture to renew my request to your Eminence ? ” 

“ Very well, I will go there. Wait for me here.” 

Mazarin looked carefully around to see if any key had been 
left in one of the desks, and then left the room. 

Ten minutes elapsed, during which D’Artagnan did his best 
to read through the first envelope what was written on the 
second, but he could not accomplish it. 

Mazarin returned, pale and in deep thought, and sat down at 
his desk. D’Artagnan studied him as he had just studied the 
letter ; but the envelope of his countenance was almost as 
impenetrable as that of the letter. 

“ Ah ! ” thought the Gascon, “ he looks annoyed ; can it be 
against me ? He reflects ; is it about sending me to the Bas- 
tille ? Very fine, monsignor! But at the first intimation of 
it I will strangle you and turn Frondeur. I shall be carried 
in triumph like M. Broussel ; and Athos will proclaim me the 
French Brutus. That would be comical ! ” 

The Gascon, with his ever-galloping imagination, had 
already settled everything he should do, according to cir- 
cumstances. 

But Mazarin gave no order of this kind. On the contrary, 
he began to give D’Artagnan the velvet paw. 

“ You were right, my dear Monsou d’Artagnan,” said he to 
him ; “ you cannot leave Paris yet.” 


THE FLIGHT, 


449 


Ah ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

So give me back that despatch, I pray.” 

D’Artagnan obeyed. Mazarin assured himself that the seal 
was intact. 

“ I shall want you this evening,” said he ; “ return at five 
o’clock.” 

“At five o’clock, your Excellence, I have an appointment 
that I must keep,” said D’Artagnan. 

“Do not let that distress you,” said Mazarin; “it is the 
same.” 

“ Good ! ” thought D’Artagnan ; “ I suspected it.” 

“ Return, then, at five o’clock, and bring that dear M. de 
Vallon with you. But leave him in the antechamber; I wish 
to talk to you alone.” 

D’Artagnan bowed ; and while bowing he said to himself : 

“ Both the same order, both the same hour, both at the 
Palais Royal. I have it. Ah ! there is a secret for which 
M. de Gondy would have paid a hundred thousand livres ! ” 

“ You reflect ? ” said Mazarin rather anxiously. 

“Yes ; I was asking myself whether we should come armed 
or not.” 

“ Armed to the teeth,” said Mazarin. 

“Very well, monsignor,” said D’Artagnan; “it shall be 
so.” 

D’Artagnan bowed, left the room, and hastened to repeat 
Mazarin’s flattering promises to his friend, which put Porthos 
into inconceivably high spirits. 


CHAPTER LIII. 

THE FLIGHT. 

In spite of the agitated state of the City, the Palais Royal 
presented one of the most brilliant spectacles when, at five 
o’clock, D’Artagnan repaired thither. This was not surpris- 
ing. The Queen had restored Broussel and Blancmesnil to 
the people ; the Queen had, therefore, nothing more to fear, 
as the people had nothing more to demand. The present dis- 
turbance was, therefore, merely a remnant of their agitation, 
which only required time to calm itself ; as after a storm it 


450 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


often requires many days for the swell of the waves to set- 
tle down. 

There had been a great banquet, for which the return of 
the conqueror of Lens was the pretext. The princes and 
princesses were invited, and carriages had blocked up the 
courts since mid-day. After the dinner there was to be play 
in the Queen’s apartments. 

Anne of Austria was that day charming, alike from her 
grace and talent. Never had she been seen in a gayer hu- 
mour. Vengeance, in full blossom, shone in her eyes and 
smiled on her lips. 

The moment they rose from table Mazarin disappeared. 
D’Artagnan, already at his post, was waiting in the anteroom. 
The Cardinal appeared with a smiling countenance, took him 
by the hand and led him into his cabinet. 

My dear Monsou d’Artagnan,” said the minister, seating 
himself, I am going to give you the greatest mark of confi- 
dence that a minister can give an officer.” 

D’Artagnan bowed. 

I hope,” said he, that monsignor gives it me without 
any reserve whatever, and with the conviction that I de- 
serve it.” 

You deserve it more than any one, my dear friend ; there- 
fore I apply to you.” 

Very well,” said D’Artagnan; ^^and I will confess to you, 
monsignor, that I have been long looking forward to such an 
opportunity as this. Therefore tell me quickly what you 
have to impart to me.” 

This evening, my dear Monsou d’Artagnan, you will have 
the safety of the State in your hands,” replied Mazarin. 

He paused. 

Explain yourself. I am all attention.” 

^‘The Queen has determined to take a short journey this 
evening to Saint Germain with the King.” 

“ Aha ! ” said D’Artagnan ; that is to say, the Queen wishes 
to leave Paris.” 

You understand — a woman’s cai)rice.” 

Yes, I understand very well,” said D’Artagnan. 

It was on that account she sent for you this morning, and 
told you to return this evening.” 

And a mighty matter it was to want me to swear that I 
would mention this appointment to no one ! ” muttered D’Ar- 


THE FLIGHT. 


461 


tagnan. Ah, women ! Although they are queens, they are 
ever women ! ” 

‘‘ Would you disapprove of this little journey, my dear 
Monsou d’Artagnan ? ’’ demanded Mazarin, with some 
anxiety. 

I, monsignor ? ’’ said D’Artagnan ; “ and why should I ? 

“ Because you shrug your shoulders.” 

“ It is a way I have of talking to myself, monsignor.” 

“ So you approve of this journey ? ” 

I neither approve nor disapprove, monsignor ; I merely 
await your orders.” 

“ Very well. So I have fixed on you to transport the King 
. and Queen to Saint Germain.” 

Deceitful knave ! ” said D’Artagnan to himself. 

“ You perceive, therefore,” continued Mazarin, seeing D’Ar- 
tagnan’s impassibility, “ that, as I told you, the safety of the 
State will be intrusted to you.” 

Yes, monsignor ; and I feel all the responsibility of 
such a charge.” 

You undertake it, however ? ” 

I always undertake.” 

You think the thing possible ? ” 

Everything is possible.” 

Shall you be attacked on the road ? ” 

Very probably.” 

What will you do in that case ? ” 

I will pass through those who attack me.” 

And should you not pass through them ? ” 

Then so much the worse for them — I will pass over 
^them.” 

^‘And you will take the 1 - : 

Germain ? ” 

^^Yes.” 

On your life ? ” 

On my life.” 

You are a hero, my dear ! ” said Mazarin, looking at the 
Musketeer with admiration. 

D’Artagnan smiled. 

And I myself ? ” said Mazarin, after a moment’s silence 
and looking earnestly at D’Artagnan. 

How ! And you, your Excellence ? ” 

And I myself, should I wish to leave Paris ? ” 


452 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


‘‘ That would be more difficult. Your Eminence might be 
recognised.” 

“ Even under this disguise ? ” said Mazarin. And he raised a 
cloak that covered a chair, on which was a cavalier’s complete 
suit of grey pearl and garnet, with a profusion of silver lace. 

If your Eminence is disguised, it will certainly make it 
much easier.” 

Ah ! ” said Mazarin, breathing again. 

But it will be necessary to do what your Eminence said, 
the other day, you would have done in our place.” 

And what will it be necessary to do ? ” 

To shout, ^ Down with Mazarin ! ’ ” 

I will shout.” 

In French, in good French, mon signor ; be careful of the 
accent. Six thousand Angevins were killed in Sicily because 
they pronounced Italian badly. Take care that the French 
do not avenge themselves on you for the Sicilian Vespers ! ” 

I will do my best.” 

There are many armed men in the streets,” continued 
D’Artagnan ; are you quite sure that no one has been made 
acquainted with the Queen’s project ? ” 

Mazarin reflected. 

“ It would be a fine thing for a traitor, monsignor, this affair 
you propose to me. The danger of an attack would be an 
ample excuse.” 

Mazarin shuddered ; but he reflected that a man who 
intended to betray him would not warn him of it. So he 
said, with some vivacity : 

I do not trust every one ; and the proof is, that I have 
chosen you to escort me.” 

Thpu dn you not go with the Queen ? ” 

No,” said Mazarin. 

Oh ! you go after the Queen ? ” 

^^No,” again said Mazarin. 

Ah ! ” said D’Artagnan, who began to comprehend. 

Yes, I have my own plans,” continued Mazarin. With 
the Queen, I should double the chances against her ; after the 
Queen, her departure would double mine ; then, the Court once 
safe, they might forget me. Great people are ungrateful.” 

^^That is true,” said D’Artagnan, casting an involuntary 
glance at the Queen’s diamond, which Mazarin had on his 
finger, 


THE FLIGHT. 


453 


Mazarin followed the direction of his eyes, and gently 
turned the bezel of his ring inward. 

So,’^ said Mazarin, with his wily smile, I wish to prevent 
their being ungrateful to me.” 

That is Christian charity,” said D’Artagnan, not to lead 
your neighbour into temptation.” 

It is precisely on that account,” said Mazarin, that I wish 
to depart before them.” 

D’Artagnan smiled ; he was exactly the man to understand 
this Italian craftiness. 

Mazarin saw him smile, and took advantage of the moment. 

You will, therefore, begin by taking me from Paris first — 
will you not, my dear Monsou d’Artagnan ? ” 

A rough commission, monsignor,” said D’Artagnan, resum- 
ing his grave air. 

But,” said Mazarin, looking very earnestly at him, that no 
one expression of his countenance might escape him, — but 
you did not make all these observations about the King and 
the Queen.” 

“The King and the Queen are my King and Queen, mon- 
signor,” replied the Musketeer ; “ my life is theirs — I owe it 
to them — they demand it of me; and I have nothing to 
say.” 

“It is true,” muttered Mazarin, in a low voice ; “ therefore, 
as your life does not belong to me, I must purchase it of you — 
must I not ? ” 

And sighing deeply he again turned the bezel of his ring 
out. 

D’Artagnan smiled. 

These two men matched each other in one point, and that 
is — cunning. Had they sympathised in the same manner as 
to courage, the one would have made the other perform great 
actions. 

“ But,” said Mazarin, “ you understand that if I ask this 
service of you, it is with the intention of being grateful for 
it.” 

“ Has monsignor yet only reached the intention ? ” said 
D’Artagnan. 

“Here,” said Mazarin, drawing the ring from his finger, 
“here, my dear Monsou d’Artagnan, is a diamond that formerly 
belonged to you : it is just that it should return to you. Take 
it, I beg of you.” 


454 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


D’Artagnan did not give Mazarin the trouble of pressing 
him. He took the ring, looked to see if it was really the same 
stone, and, having satisfied himself that the water was pure, 
he put it on his finger with indescribable satisfaction. 

“ I much valued it,” said Mazarin, giving it a last lingering 
look ; but never mind ; I give it you with great pleasure.” 

And I, monsignor,” replied D’Artagnan, receive it in the 
same spirit with which it is given. Come, let us talk over our 
little affairs. You wish to depart before the others ? ” 

Yes, I greatly desire it.” 

At what time ? ” 

At ten o’clock.” 

And at what hour does the Queen depart ? ” 

At midnight.” 

Then it is possible. I can get you out of Paris, leave you 
beyond the barrier, and then return for her.” 

Admirably arranged. But how will you get me out of 
Paris ? ” 

Oh, as to that, you must let me follow my own plans.” 

I give you full powers ; take as large an escort as you 
like.” 

D’Artagnan shook his head. 

It appears to me, however, to be the safest way,” said 
Mazarin. 

“Yes, for you, monsignor, but not for the Queen.” 

Mazarin bit his lips. 

“ Then what must we do ? ” 

“ You must leave it to me, monsignor.” 

“ Hum ! ” said Mazarin. 

“ And give me the entire direction of this affair.” 

“ Nevertheless ” — 

“ Or find some other person,” said D’Artagnan, turning his 
back. 

“ Ah ! ” said Mazarin, in a low voice, “ I verily believe he 
is going off with the diamond.” And he called him back. 
“ Monsou d’Artagnan ! my dear Monsou d’Artagnan ! ” said 
he, in his most caressing voice. 

“ Monsignor ? ” 

“ Do you answer for everything ? ” 

“ I answer for nothing — I will do my best.” 

“ Your best ? ” 

“ Yes.” 


THE FLIGHT. 


455 


“ Well, then, I depend upon you.” 

That is very fortunate,” said D’Artagnan to himself. 

You will be here, then, at half-past nine ? ” 

Shall I find your Eminence ready ? ” 

“ Certainly ; quite ready.” 

So then it is all settled. Now, monsignor, will you let 
me see the Queen ? ” 

For what purpose ? ” 

“ I should wish to take her Majesty’s orders from her own 
lips.” 

She directed me to give them to you.” 

“ She may have forgotten something.” 

You insist on seeing her ?” 

It is indispensable, monsignor.” 

Mazarin hesitated a moment. D’Artagnan remained im- 
movable in his determination. 

Come, then,” said Mazarin, ‘‘ I will conduct you to her ; 
but not one word of our conversation.” 

What we have said only concerns ourselves, monsignor,” 
replied D’Artagnan. 

You swear to be silent ? ” 

I never swear, monsignor. I say Yes or I say No ; and as 
I am a gentleman, I keep my word.” 

Well, I perceive that I must confide in you, without any 
restriction.” 

It is much the best plan, believe me, monsignor.” 

Come,” said Mazarin. 

The Cardinal ushered D’Artagnan into the oratory, and told 
him to wait there. He did not wait long. In five minutes the 
Queen entered, in grand gala costume. Thus adorned, she 
looked scarcely thirty-five years old, and was very beautiful. 

“ Is it you. Monsieur d’Artagnan ? ” said she, smiling 
graciously ; I thank you for having insisted on seeing me.” 

I crave your Majesty’s pardon,” said D’Artagnan ; but I 
wished to receive your orders from your own lips.” 

You know what is under discussion ? ” 

Yes, madame.” 

You accept the commission I intrust to you ? ” 

With gratitude.” 

Very well — be here at midnight.” 

I will be here.” 

M. d’Artagnan,” said the Queen, I know your disinter- 


456 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


estedness too well to talk to you of my gratitude at this 
moment ; but I swear that I will not forget this second ser- 
vice as I have forgotten the first/’ 

Your Majesty is at liberty either to remember or to forget, 
and I do not know what you mean.” 

And D’Artagnan bowed. 

Go, sir,” said the Queen, with her most charming smile, — 
go, and return at midnight.” 

She waved her hand as a token of adieu, and D’Artagnan 
departed; but as he withdrew he cast his eyes at the door 
through which the Queen had entered, and at the bottom of 
the tapestry he saw the end of a velvet slipper. 

Good,” said he ; Mazarin was listening to hear whether I 
betrayed him. Eeally that Italian puppet does not deserve 
the services of a man of honour.” 

Yet D’Artagnan was none the less punctual to his appoint- 
ment. At half-past nine he entered the antechamber. 

Bernouin was in attendance, and introduced him. 

He found the Cardinal dressed as a cavalier. He looked 
exceedingly well in this costume, which he wore, as we have 
said, with elegance; only he was now rather pale and trem- 
bled a little. 

Are you quite alone ? ” said Mazarin. 

Yes, monsignor.” 

And that excellent M. du Vallon ? Shall we not have the 
pleasure of his company ? ” 

Yes, monsignor ; he is waiting in his carriage.” 

Where is it ? ” 

At the garden door of the Palais Koyal.” 

So we are going in his carriage ? ” 

Yes, monsignor.” 

And without any other escort than you two ? ” 

^^Is not that enough ? One of us would suffice.” 

Eeally, my dear M. d’ Artagnan,” said Mazarin, “ you quite 
frighten me with your coolness.” 

I should have thought, on the contrary, that it would in- 
spire confidence.” 

‘‘ Shall I not take Bernouin with me ? ” 

There is no room for him'; he will follow, your Emi- 
nence.” 

Well, then,” said Mazarin, I must do as you say in 
everything.” 


THE FLIGHT, 


457 


Monsignor, there is still time to draw back,” said D’Arta- 
gnan ; and your Eminence is perfectly at liberty.” 

“ No, no,” said Mazarin, let us go.” 

And they went down the private staircase, Mazarin lean- 
ing on D’Artagnan. The Musketeer felt the Cardinal’s arm 
tiembling on his own. 

They crossed the courts of the Palais Royal, where some 
c arriages, belonging to late guests, still remained ; they entered 
the garden and reached the little door. 

Mazarin took the key from his pocket and attempted to 
open the gate, but his hand trembled so much that he could 
not find the keyhole. 

Give it to me,” said D’Artagnan. 

Mazarin gave him the key. D’Artagnan opened the gate and 
put the key into his pocket ; he intended to return the same way. 

The steps of the carriage were down, the door was open ; 
Mousqueton was standing by it. Porthos was at the back 
part of the vehicle. 

Step in, monsignor,” said D’Artagnan. 

Mazarin did not wait to be told twice, but jumped into the 
carriage. 

D’Artagnan entered after him. Mousqueton shut the door, 
and then hoisted himself up behind the carriage with many a 
groan. He had made some objection to coming, under pre- 
tence of his wound, which still gave him great pain ; but 
D’Artagnan had said to him: 

‘‘ Remain, if you prefer it, my dear Monsieur Mouston ; 
but I warn you that Paris will be burnt to-night.” 

Whereupon Mousqueton made no further demur, but 
declared that he Was ready to follow his master and M. d’ Arta- 
gnan to the end of the world. 

The carriage set off at a gentle trot, such as did not in the 
least denote that it contained people who were at all in a 
hurry. The Cardinal wiped his forehead with his handker- 
chief and looked around him. 

He had Porthos on his left and D’Artagnan on his right. 
Each guarded a door — each served him as a rampart. 

Opposite, on the cushion in front, were two pairs of pistols — 
one pair before Porthos, another before D’Artagnan. The two 
friends had likewise their swords by their sides. 

At a hundred paces from the Palais Royal a patrol stopped 
the carriage. 


458 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


Who goes there ? ’ ’ demanded the leader. 

Mazarin ! ” replied D’Artagnan, bursting out laughing. 

The Cardinal felt his hair bristling up on his head. < 

The joke appeared excellent to the citizens, who, seeing a 
carriage without arms on the panels and without an escort, never 
could have believed the reality of such an act of imprudence. 

“ A good journey ! cried they, and let them pass on. 

Hem ! ” said D’Artagnan ; what does monsignor think 
of that answer ? ’’ 

A man of talent ! ” exclaimed Mazarin. 

“ In fact,’’ said Porthos, I understand ” — 

About the middle of the Eue des Petits-Champs another 
patrol stopped the carriage. 

“ Who goes there ? ” said the leader. 

Pall back, monsignor,” said D’Artagnan. 

And Mazarin buried himself so completely between the two 
friends that he was entirely concealed by them. 

Who goes there ? ” repeated the same voice, with im- 
patience. 

D’Artagnan perceived that certain men were throwing them- 
selves before the horses ; he thrust his body half out of the 
carriage. 

“ Ha ! Planchet,” cried he. 

The leader approached ; it was really Planchet. D’Arta- 
gnan had recognised the voice of his former lacquey. 

“ How, sir ! ” said Planchet ; “ is it you ? ” 

Oh, mon Dieu, yes, my good friend. Our dear Porthos 
has just received a sword wound, and I am taking him to his 
country house at St. Cloud.” 

‘‘ Eeally ! ” said Planchet. 

‘^Porthos,” continued D’Artagnan, ^^if you can yet speak, 
my dear Porthos, say one word to our good friend Planchet.” • 

‘‘Planchet, my friend,” said Porthos, in a doleful voice, “ I ' 
am very ill, and should you meet with a doctor, you will do 
me a great kindness by sending him to me.” 

“ Ah, grand Dieu,” said Planchet, “ what a misfortune ! 
And how did this happen ? ” I 

“ I will tell you all about it,” said Mousqueton. 

Porthos emiHed a deep groan. 

“ Clear the way for us, Planchet,” said D’Artagnan, in a low ^ 
voice, “ or he will not reach home alive. The lungs are 
injured, my friend.” 


THE FLIGHT. 


459 


Planchet shook his head, as if to say, In that case, it is a 
bad business.” 

Then, turning to his men : Let them pass,” said he ; they 
are friends.” 

The carriage resumed its progress, and Mazarin, who had 
held his breath, ventured to breathe again. 

Bricconi ! ” he muttered. 

A few paces before they reached the gate of Saint Honoré, 
they met a third troop ; this was composed of very ill-looking 
people, who rather resembled banditti than anything else ; they 
were the men belonging to the mendicant of Saint Eustache. 

“ Attention, Porthos ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

Porthos stretched but his hand toward his pistols. 

What is the matter ? ” said Mazarin. 

“ Monsignor, I believe that we are in bad company.” 

A man came up to the door, holding a kind of scythe in his 
hand. 

Who goes there ? ” said this man. 

“ Ah, rascal ! ” answered D’Artagnan, do you not know 
the Princess carriage?” 

Prince or not,” said the man, open the door. We are 
guarding this gate, and no one shall pass through whom we 
do not know.” 

What must we do ? ” said Porthos. 

Pass, pardieu ! ” replied D’Artagnan. 

But how can we pass ? ” inquired Mazarin. 

Through them or over them ! Gallop on, coachman ! ” 

The coachman raised his whip. 

Not one step farther,” cried the man, who appeared the 
leader, or I cut the throats of your horses.” 

Confound it ! ” said Porthos, that would be a pity ; the 
beasts cost me a hundred pistoles each.” 

I will pay you two hundred for them,” said Mazarin. 

^Wes ; but when their throats are cut, they will cut ours.” 

There is one coming up on my side,” said Porthos ; “ shall 
I kill him ? ” 

Yes, with a blow of your fist, if you can ; do not fire, 
except at the last extremity.” 

I can do that,” said Porthos. 

Come and open the door,” said D’Artagnan to the man 
with the scythe, taking one of his pistols by the barrel and 
preparing to strike with the butt. 


460 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


This man approached. 

As he came up, D’Artagnan, to be more free in his move- 
ments, got half out of the door ; his eyes were fixed on the 
mendicant’s face, which was illumined by the light of a 
lantern. 

The mendicant certainly recognised the Musketeer, for he 
turned very pale; D’Artagnan certainly recognised him, for 
his hair bristled up on his head. 

Monsieur d’Artagnan ! ” he exclaimed, starting back ; 
“ Monsieur d’Artagnan ! Let them pass.” 

Perhaps D'Artagnan would also have spoken ; but at this 
moment a blow was heard, like that of a hammer falling upon 
the head of an ox ; it was Porthos, who had just knocked down 
his man. D’Artagnan turned, and saw the unlucky wretch 
lying four yards off. 

Now, full speed ! ” he cried to the coachman ; quick, 
quick ! ” 

The coachman gave the horses a tremendous cut with his 
whip ; the noble animals bounded forward ; cries, like those of 
men knocked down, were heard ; then they felt a double 
jerk — both wheels had just passed over a round and flexible 
body ; there was now a moment’s silence ; the carriage passed 
through the gate. 

To the Cours-la-Peine ! ” cried D’Artagnan to the coachman. 
Then, turning to Mazarin : Now, monsignor,” said he, you 
may say five 'paters and five aves^ to thank God for your deliv- 
erance. You are saved ! You are free ! ” 

Mazarin only answered by a sort of groan ; he could hardly 
credit such a miracle. 

Five minutes afterward the carriage stopped ; it had reached 
the Cours-la-E,eine. 

‘‘ Is monsignor satisfied with his escort ? ” demanded the 
Musketeer. 

Enchanted, monsou,” replied Mazarin, venturing to look out 
of one of the windows. ^‘Now, do the same for the Queen.” 

“ That will be less difficult,” said D’Artagnan, leaping out of 
the carriage. M. du Vallon, I recommend his Eminence to 
your care.” 

‘‘Make yourself perfectly easy about that,” said Porthos, 
stretching out his hand. 

D’Artagnan took hold of it and shook it. 

“ Ah — oh ! ” cried Porthos. 


THE COADJUTOR'’ S CARRIAGE, 


461 


D’Artagnan looked at his friend with astonishment. “ What 
is the matter with you ? ” said he. 

‘‘ I believe that I have sprained my hand,” said Porthos. 

“ Why the devil do you hit so unmercifully hard, then ? ” 

I was obliged. My man was going to lire a j)istol at me. 
But how did you get rid of yours ? ” 

“ Oh ! mine,” said D’Artagnan, ‘‘ was not a man.” 

“ What was he, then ? ” 

“ A spectre.” 

And ” — 

I conjured him away.” 

Without further explanation, D’Artagnaiit took his pistols, 
put them into his girdle, wrapped his cloak around him, and, 
not wishing to return by the same barrier as he had come out, 
he walked towards the Eichelieu gate. 


CHAPTER LIV. 

THE coadjutor’s CARRIAGE. 

Instead of returning by the Porte Saint Honoré, D’Arta- 
gnan, who had plenty of time before him, made a circuit, and 
entered by the Porte Richelieu. He was here examined ; and 
when, by his plumed hat and laced cloak, it w'as ascertained 
that he was an officer of Musketeers, they surrounded him, 
with the intention of making him shout, Down with Maza- 
rin ! ” This demonstration rather disquieted him at first ; but 
when he found what they required, he shouted the cry so 
heartily that even the most difficult were satisfied. 

He then proceeded down the Rue Richelieu, meditating on 
the method by which he should carry off the Queen ; for to get 
her out in a carriage bearing the arms of France was not to be 
thought of. At the door of Madame de Guémenée’s hôtel he 
saw an equipage. A sudden idea illumined his mind. 

Ah, pardieu ! ” said he, “ that would be a good stratagem 
of war.” 

And he went up to the carriage, and examined the arms on 
its panels and the livery of the coachman on the box. 

This examination was the easier as the coachman was sleep- 
ing, with the reins in his hands. 


462 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


It is certainly the coadjutor’s carriage,” said he. On • 
word, I begin to think that Providence favours us.” ‘ 

He quietly seated himself in the carriage, and, pulling tho 
silken cord that was attached to the coachman’s little finger : 

To the Palais Eoyal,” said he. 

The coachman, so suddenly awakened, immediately drove ir ^ 
the direction ordered, never doubting but that the order cain( ^ 
from his master. The Swiss was just closing the gates, bui 
seeing such a splendid equipage, he concluded that it was ai 
important visitor, and allowed the carriage to pass. It stopped •' 
under the peristyle. \ 

The coachman now first perceived that the lacqueys werQ not | 
behind the carriage. Imagining that the coadjutor had other- 
wise employed them, he leaped from his box, and, still holding 
the reins, came and opened the door. 

D’Artagnan jumped out of the carriage, and at the very 
moment that the coachman, terrified at perceiving a stranger, 
started back, he seized him by the collar with his left hand, 
and presented a pistol to his head with the right. 

Attempt to utter one word,” said D’Artagnau, ‘‘ and you 
are a dead man.” 

The coachman saw by the speaker’s expression that he had ^ 
fallen into some ambush, and he stood with gaping mouth and 
staring eyes. 

Two Musketeers were walking in the courtyard. 

Monsieur de Bellière,” said D’Artagnan to one of them 

be so kind as to take the reins from this fine fellow ; then ge- 
upon the box, drive the carriage to the door of the private stair 
case, and wait for me there. It is on an affair of importance, 
and is on the King’s service.” 

The Musketeer, who knew that his officer was incapable of 
any foolish pleasantry in affairs of duty, obeyed without say- 
ing a word, though he thought the order singular. 

Then, turning toward the second Musketeer ; 

“ Monsieur du Verger,” said D’Artagnan, assist me in 
conducting this man to a place of security.” 

The Musketeer supposed that his officer had just arrested 
some prince in disguise ; he bowed and, drawing his sword, 
signified that he was ready. 

D’Artagnan mounted the stairs, followed by his prisoner^ 
who was himself followed by the Musketeer. They crossed 
the vestibule and entered Mazarin’s antechamber. 


THE coadjutor's CARRIAGE. 


463 


Beriiouin was anxiously waiting for news from his master. 

“ Well, sir ! ” said he. 

“ Everything goes on admirably well, my dear Monsieur 
Bernouin ; but here is a man whom we must put into a 
place of security, if you please.’^ 

Where, sir ? ’’ 

Wherever you please, provided the place you choose has 
shutters fastened by a padlock and a door that locks.” 

‘WVe have that,” said Bernouin. 

And they took the poor coachman into a closet with grated 
windows, which much resembled a prison. 

Now, my good friend,” said D’Artagnan, “ I must request 
you instantly to do me the favor of letting me have your hat 
and cloak.” 

The coachman, as may be supposed, made no resistance. 
Besides, he was so astounded at what had happened that he 
actually tottered and stammered like a drunken man. D’Ar- 
tagnan put everything on the arm of the valet-de-chambre, 

‘‘ Now, M. du Verger,” said he, “ shut yourself up with 
this man till M. Bernouin comes to open the door for you. 
The duty will be a pretty long one, and not very amus- 
ing. I am aware of that ; but you understand,” he added 
gravely, the King’s service.” 

At your command, lieutenant,” replied the Musketeer, 
who saw that important matters were at stake. 

“ By the way,” said D’Artagnan, should this man attempt 
to escape or to call out, run your sword through him.” 

The Musketeer made a sign with his head, which meant to 
say that he would punctually obey the order. 

D’Artagnan left the room, taking Bernouin with him. It 
was striking midnight. 

“ Take me into the Queen’s oratory,” said he ; inform her 
that I am here, and then take that bundle, with a musketoon 
well loaded, and put them on the box of the carriage that is 
waiting at the door of the private staircase.” 

Bernouin ushered D’Artagnan into the oratory, where he 
sat down in a very thoughtful mood. 

Everything had been going on as usual at the Palais Boyal. 

; At ten o’clock, as we have before said, almost all the guests 
l^had retired. Those who were to flee with the Court had 
received their instructions, and each was requested to be at 
the Cours-la-Reine between midnight and one in the morning. 


464 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


At ten o’clock Anne of Austria went to the King’s room. 
They had jnst put Monsieur to bed ; and the young Lonis, 
having remained up the last, was amusing himself by placing 
leaden soldiers in order of battle, a game in which he greatly 
delighted. Two pages of honour were playing with him. 

Laporte,” said the Queen, “ it must be time to put his 
Majesty to bed.” 

The King begged to remain up longer, not being at all 
sleepy, as he said ; but the Queen insisted, saying : 

Are you not going to bathe at Conflans to-morrow morning 
at six o’clock, Louis ? You requested to do so yourself, if I 
am not mistaken.” 

“You are right, madame,” said the King, “ and I am ready 
to go to my chamber if you will kiss me. Laporte, give the 
candle to the Chevalier de Coislin.” 

The Queen pressed her lips on the smooth white forehead 
which the august boy held toward her with a gravity that 
already savoured of etiquette. 

“Go quickly to sleep, Louis,” said the Queen, “for you 
will be awakened early.” 

“ I will do my best to obey you, madame,” said the young 
Louis, “ but I am not at all sleepy.” 

“ Laporte,” said Anne of Austria, “ look for a very dull , 
book to read to his Majesty ; but do not undress yourself.” 

The King left the room, accompanied by the Chevalier de ' 
Coislin, who carried the candle. The other page of honour , 
was sent home. 

Then the Queen went to her own apartment. Her ladies — : 
that is to say, Madame de Brégy, Mademoiselle de Beaumont, 
Madame de Motteville, and Socratine, her sister, whom they 
thus designated on account of her learning — had just brought 
her, into her dressing-room, something that was left over from 
her dinner, and she supped on it according to custom. 

The Queen then gave her orders as usual ; talked of a ban- 
quet that the Marquis de Villequier was to give her on the 
day after the morrow; fixed on the persons to whom she 
would allow the honour of being there ; announced for the 
next day a visit to Val-de-GraCe,’^ where she intended to offer , 
her devotions ; and gave her orders to Béringhen, her principal / 
valet-de-chmnbrey to accompany her there. 

After she had finished' supper the Queen pretended to 
greatly fatigued, and retired to her bedchamber. Madame de 


.liE COADJUTOR'S CARRIAGE. 


465 


Mottevillf, .vli;) was in close attendance that evening, followed 
her ;i7 [ ai-.^: ■‘od her to undress. The Queen went to bed, 
spoke üindly to her for some minutes, and dismissed her. 

It was at this moment that D’Artagnan entered the court o;' 
the Palais Poyal, with the coadjutor’s carriage. 

An instant after, the carriages of the ladies of honour lefi, 
the palace, and the gates were closed. 

It was striking midnight. Pive minutes after, Bernouin, 
proceeding by the Cardinal’s secret passage, knocked at the 
Queen’s bedchamber. 

Anne of Austria herself opened the door. 

She was already dressed ; that is to say, she had put on hei 
stockings and enveloped herself in a long dressing-gown. 

‘‘ Is it you, Bernouin ? ” said she. Is M. d’Artagnan 
there ? ” 

Yes, madame, in your oratory ; he is waiting until y oui 
Majesty is ready.” 

I am ready. Go and tell Laporte to awaken and dress the 
King, and then go to Maréchal de Villeroy and call him for me.” 

Bernouin bowed and left the room. 

The Queen went to her oratory, which was lighted by one 
simple lamp of Venetian glass. She saw D’Artagnan standing 
there, awaiting her coming. 

Is it you ? ” said she to him. 

^^Yes, madame.” 

Are you ready ? ” 

I am.” 

And the Cardinal ? ” 

Has left without accident ; he is waiting for your Majesty 
at Cours-la-Beine.” 

‘‘ But in what carriage are we to go ? ” 

‘^ I have provided for everything. A carriage is waiting 
your Majesty below.” 

Let us go to the King’s room.” 

D’Artagnan bowed and followed the Queen. 

^ The young Louis was already dressed, except his shoes and 
'■ doublet. He was allowing this to be done in great astonish- 
. overwhelming Laporte with questions, to which he only 

(5^ answered : 

Sire, it is by the Queen’s command.” 

— The bed was turned down and exposed the King’s sheets ; 
they were so much worn as to be in holes in some places. 


46 ') 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


This was one of the effects of Mazarin’s niggar-lliness. 

'Che Queen entered, and D’Artagnan remained .. the door. 
The boy, seeing the Queen, escaped from Laporte and ran up 
to her. 

The Queen made a sign for D’Artagnan to approach. He 
obeyed. 

My son,” said Anne of Austria, pointing to the Musketeer, 
.yfo stood calm and uncovered, — “here is M. d’Artagnan, who 
is as brave as one of those ancient knights whose history 
you so much love to hear recounted by my ladies. Imprint 
his name upon your memory and look at him well, that you 
).( :,y not forget his face, for this night he will render us great 
service.” 

The young King looked at the officer with his full, proud 
eves and said; 

“ M. d’Artagnan !” . 

That is right, my son.” 

Louis slowly raised his little hand and held it out to the 
‘ usketeer, who knelt and kissed it. 

“ M. d’Artagnan,” repeated Louis ; “ very well, madame.” 

At this moment a noise was heard coming nearer. 

“ What is that ? ” asked the Queen. 

“ Oh !^’ replied D’Artagnan, straining, at the same time, his 
> ■ . ick ears and his keen eyes, “ it is the noise of the people, 

V !io are in commotion.” 

“ We must flee,” said the Queen. 

“ Your Majesty has given me the direction of this affair ; 
w :i must remain and hear what they want.” 

“ Monsieur d’Artagnan ! ” 

“ I take the whole responsibility.” 

Nothing is more contagious than confidence. The Quee: 
Ml of energy and courage herself, highly appreciated these 
t . ' O qualities in others. . 

“ Do as you like,’^she said ; “ I rely on you.” 

“ Will your Majesty permit me, throughout this affair. ' 
g ve orders in your name?” 

“ Command, sir.” 

“ What do the people want now ?” inquired the King. , 

“We shall soon know, sire,” replied D’Artagnan; an(l|^'aL 
lYstily left the room. 

The tumult went on increasing. It seemed entirely to . ' 

( und the Palais Koyal. Those within could hear cries, the 



THE MUSKETEER KNELT AND KISSED THE KING'S HAND, 






« 



» r 

# • 

I • 

« 


» 










THE COADJUTOR'’ S CARRIAGE. 


467 


meaning of which they could not distinguish. It was evident 
that there was outcry and sedition. 

The half-dressed King, the Queen, and Laporte remained 
each in the same state, and almost in the same place, listening 
and waiting. 

Comminges, who was that night on guard at the Palais 
Royal, ran up. He had about two hundred men in the courts 
and stables, and placed them at the Queen’s disposal. 

Well,” said Anne of Austria, on seeing D’Artagnan return, 
“ what is the trouble ? ” 

“ The trouble is, madame, a report has been spread that the 
Queen has left the Palais Royal, carrying the King away with 
her, and the people demand to have proof of the contrary, or 
they threaten to pull down the Palais Royal.” 

‘‘ Oh! this time it is too much,” said the Queen, and I will 
convince them that I am not gone.” 

D’Artagnan saw by the expression of the Queen’s face that 
she was going to give some violent order. He went up to her 
and said, in a low voice : 

Has your Majesty confidence in me still ? ” 

This voice made her start. 

Yes, sir ; entire confidence,” she replied. Speak ! ” 

Will the Queen deign to act according to my advice ? ” 

Speak.” 

Let your Majesty dismiss M. de Comminges, and order him 
to shut himself up, with his men, in the guard-room and the 
stables.” 

Comminges looked at D’Artagnan with that jealous look 
with which every courtier sees a new fortune in the as- 
cendant. 

Did you hear, Comminges ? ” said the Queen. 

D’Artagnan went to him. With his usual sagacity he had 
perceived his look of annoyance. 

Monsieur de Comminges,” said he, pardon me. We are 
both the Queen’s servants, are we not ? It is my turn to be 
useful to her, so do not envy me this good fortune.” 

Comminges bowed and left the room. 

There,” said D’Artagnan to himself, now I have one 
more enemy.” 

And now, ” said the Queen, turning to D’Artagnan, what 
must we do ? — for you hear, instead of ceasing, the noise re- 
doubles.” 


i 

4-m 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Madame/’ said D’Artagnan, the i^eople wish to see the 
King. They must see him.” 

What ! They must see him ! And where ? On the 
balcony ? ” 

No, madame ; but here in his bed, sleeping.” 

^‘Oh, your Majesty, M. d’Artagnan is quite right!” ex- 
claimed Laporte. 

The Queen reflected, and then smiled like a woman to whom 
duplicity is no stranger. 

“ Very well,” she muttered. 

“ Monsieur Laporte,” said D’Artagnan, go and announce to 
the people, through the bars of the gates of the Palais Royal, 
that they shall be satisfied, and that in five minutes they 
shall not only see the King, but that they shall even see him 
in his bed. Add that the King is asleep, and that the Queen 
entreats them to be quiet so as not to awake him.” 

But not every one — only a deputation of two or three 
persons.” 

Every one, madame.” 

But they will delay us till daylight. Think of that ! ” 

“It will last about a quarter of an hour. I answer for 
everything, madame. Believe me, I know the people : they 
are like a great baby, that requires nothing but coaxing. 

- Before the sleeping King they will be silent, gentle, and timid 
as lambs.” 

■ “ Go, Laporte,” said the Queen. 

The young King went up to his mother. 

“ Why comply with the people’s demands ? ” he inquired. 

“ It is necessary, my son,” said Anne of Austria. 

“ But then, if they say to me, ‘ You must’ I am no longer 
King.” 

The Queen remained silent. 

“Sire,” said D’Artagnan, “will your Majesty allow me to 
ask you a question ? ” 

Louis XIV. turned, astonished that any one dared thus to 
address him ; but the Queen pressed the boy’s hand. 

“ Yes, sir,” said he. 

“ Does your Majesty remember, when you were playing in 
the park at Fontainebleau, or in the court of the palace of 
Versailles, ever to have seen the heavens suddenly overcast, \ 
and to have heard the noise of thunder ? ” 

“ Yes, certainly.” 


THE COADJUTOR'S CARRIAGE. 


46 <) 

^‘Well, then, however desirous your Majesty might be oi 
playing longer, this noise of the thunder said to you ; < Sire, 
you must go in.”’ 

“ Undoubtedly, sir ; but I have also been told that the 
thunder was the voice of God.” 

‘‘Well, sire,” replied D’Artagnan, “ listen to the noise of the 
people, and you will perceive that it much resembles that c ; 
thunder.” 

In fact, at that moment an awful noise, borne along by th ■ 
night breeze, reached their ears. 

It suddenly ceased. 

“ Observe, sire,” said D’Artagnan : “ they have just told th 
people that you are asleep ; you see that you are still King. 

The Queen looked with astonishment at this singular mar . 
whose brilliant courage made him equal to the bravest, an 
whose keen and crafty intellect made him inferior to nom 

Laporte returned. 

“ Well, Laporte ? ” demanded the Queen. 

“ Madame,” he replied, “ M. d’Artagnan’s prediction i 
accomplished: they have become calm, as if by enchantmeni . 
The doors are going to be opened to them, and in five minutes 
they will be here.” 

“ Laporte,” said the Queen, “ could you not put one of your 
sons in the King’s place ? We might go off in the mean- 
time.” 

“If your Majesty commands it,” said Laporte, “my sons, as 
well as myself, are at the Queen’s service.” 

“ Ko,” said D’Artagnan ; “ for if only one of them should 
know his Majesty, and should discover the subterfuge, all 
would be lost.” 

“ You are right, sir, — always right,” said the Queen. “ La- 
porte, put the King to bed.” 

Laporte placed the King, dressed as he was, in bed, and 
then covered him up, even to the shoulders, with the 
clothes. 

The Queen bent over him and kissed his forehead. 

“ Pretend to sleep, Louis,” said she. 

“ Yes,” said the King, “but I do not wish one of these mei 
to , touch me.” 

“Sire, I am here,” said D’Artagnan, “and I promise you 
that if any one should have the audacity to do so, he shall 
atone for it by his life.” 


470 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“Now what must we do?’’ demanded the Queen, ^^for I 
hear them.” 

‘‘ Monsieur Laporte,” said D’Artagnan, <‘go and meet them, 
ind again enjoin silence. Madame, wait there, at the door ; I 
shall stand by the King’s bedside, ready to die for him.” 

Laporte left the room, the Queen stood near the tapestry, 
and D’Artagnan glided behind the curtains. 

Then the dull and continued tread of a vast multitude of 
men was heard. The Queen herself raised the tapestry, plac- 
ing her finger on her lips. 

On seeing the Queen, these men stopped, in an attitude of 
respect. 

‘‘ Enter, gentlemen,” said the Queen. 

There was then a moment of hesitation amongst all this 
people, which resembled shame. They had expected resist- 
ance, had expected to be opposed, to force the gates and over- 
throw the Guards; but the gates had opened of themselves, 
and the King, ostensibly at least, had no other guard at his 
pillow than his mother. 

Those who were in front stammered and drew back. 

Enter, gentlemen,” said Laporte, since the Queen permits 
it.” 

One more hardy than the others then ventured to pass the 
threshold, and advanced noiselessly. The others followed his 
example, and the room was silently filled, just as if these 
men had been the humblest and most devoted courtiers. Far 
beyond the door were seen the heads of those who, not being 
able to enter, were raising themselves on tiptoe. D’Artagnan 
saw all this through an opening he had made in the curtains, 
and in the man who first entered he recognized Planchet. 

‘‘ Sir,” said the Queen, who understood that he was the 
ieadër of the band, ^^you have desired to see the King, and I 
wished to show him to you myself. Go up and look at him, 
and say if we have the appearance of people who wish to 
escape.” 

“ Certainly not,” replied Planchet, greatly astonished by the 
unexpected honour that he had received. 

“ You will therefore tell my good and faithful Parisians,” 
continued Anne of Austria, with a smile the expression of 
which D’Artagnan could not misinterpret, “ that you have seen 
the King in bed and asleep ; as also the Queen, likewise ready 
to go to bed.” 


THE COADJUTOR'S CARRIAGE. 


471 


I will tell them, madame ; and those who accompany mo 
will say the same thing. But ” — 

But what ? ” demanded Anne of Austria. 

Will your Majesty pardon me,’’ said Planchet, but is it 
really the King who is lying in this bed ? ” 

Anne of Austria started. 

‘‘ If there be any one of you who knows the King,” said she, 
let him approach and declare whether it be really the King 
who is there or not.” 

A man, wrapped in a cloak, with which he concealed his face, * 
went up, leaned over the bed, and looked at the King. 

For an instant D’Artagnan thought that this man had some 
evil design, and he put his hand ‘to his sword ; but by the me - 
tion that the man with the mantle made in stooping he dii 
closed a part of his countenance, and D’Artagnan recognise* 
the coadjutor. 

It is really the King,” said the man, raising himself up 
May God bless his Majes]^ ! ” 

Yes ! ” responded the leader, in a subdued voice, — ‘^yes 
may God bless his Majesty !” 

And all these men, who had entered furious, now passin|'- 
from anger to piety, in turn blessed the royal child. 

Now, my friends,” said Planchet,. let us thank the Queer- 
and depart.” 

All bowed low and gradually left the room, noiseless as 
they had entered it. Planchet, who had come in first, wen* 
out last. 

The Queen stopped him. What is your name, my friend ? ^ 

said she. 

Planchet turned, much astonished by the question. 

Yes,” said the Queen, I consider myself as much honoure» : 
in having received you as if you had been a prince, and I wisb 
to know your name.” 

Yes,” thought Planchet, to treat me like a prince. Thank 
you !” 

D’Artagnan trembled lest Planchet, seduced like the crow hi 
the fable, should tell his name, and that the Queen, knowing his 
name, should also learn that he had formerly belonged to him. 

‘‘ Madame,” replied Planchet most respectfully, “ my naim 
is Dulaurier, at your service.” 

Thank you. Monsieur Dulaurier,” said the Queen. Ann 
what is your profession ? ” 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


-:72 

I am a draper, madame, in the Rue des Bourdonnais.’’ 

That is all I want to know,” said the Queen. ‘‘ I am ex- 
• remely obliged to you, my dear Monsieur Dulaurier ; you will 
.ear from me again.” 

“ Come, come,” muttered D’Artagnan, issuing from behind 
! ue curtains, “ positively Master Planchet is no fool, and it is 
lain enough that he has been brought up in a good school.” 

The different actors in this strange scene remained an in- 
stant facing each other without saying one word — the Queen 
standing near the door, D’Artagnan half withdrawn from his 
oncealment, the King resting on his elbow, and ready to fall 
'jack on the bed at the least noise that might indicate the 
return of the multitude. But, instead of approaching, the 
noise gradually faded away until it entirely ceased. 

The Queen drew a long breath ; D’Artagnan wiped his moist 
nrow ; the King let himself slip from the bed, saying : 

“ Let us set off.” 

At this moment Laporte returi^ed. 

Well ? ” cried the Queen. 

“ Well, madame, I followed them even to the gates ; they 
])roclaimed to all their comrades that they had seen the King, 
and that the Queen had spoken to them, so that they are gone 
off quite proud and boastful.” 

“ Oh, the wretches ! ” murmured the Queen ; they shall pay 
for their audacity, I promise them.” 

Then, turning to D’Artagnan : 

Sir,” said she, “ you have this night given me the best 
advice that I ever received in my life. Continue to do so. 
What ought we to do now ? ” 

Monsieur Laporte,” said D’Artagnan, finish dressing the 
King.” 

Can we start now ? ” asked the Queen. 

Whenever your Majesty pleases ; you have only to descend 
the private staircase ; you will find me at the door.” 

“ Go, sir,” said the Queen ; “ I will follow you.” 

D’Artagnan went downstairs. The carriage was at its post, 
with the Musketeer on the box. 

D’Artagnan took the bundle that he had desired Bernouin to 
lay at the Musketeer’s feet ; it may be remembered that it con- 
tained the hat and cloak of M. de Gondy’s coachman. 

DbV’tagnan put the cloak on his shoulders and the hat on 
his head. 


THE COADJUTOR'S CARRIAGE. 


47B 


The Musketeer got off the box. 

Sir/’ said D’Artagnan, “ you will go and liberate your com- 
panion, who is on guard over the coachman ; you will then both 
mount your horses and go to the Hôtel de la Chevrette, in the 
Rue Tiquetonne, get my horse and M. du Vallon’s, which you 
will saddle and bridle for service. You will then leave Paris, 
leading these horses, and will go to the Cours-la-Reine. Should 
you hud no one at the Cours-la-Reine, you will proceed to Saint 
Germain. The King’s service ! ” 

The Musketeer put his hand to his hat, and went off to exe- 
cute the orders he had received. 

D’Artagnan mounted the box. 

He had a pair of pistols at his girdle, a musketoon at his 
feet, and his naked sword behind him. 

The Queen appeared. Behind her came the King and the 
Due d’Anjou, his brother. 

The coadjutor’s carriage ! ” exclaimed the Queen, starting 
back. 

“ Yes, madame,” said D’Arlagnan ; but enter it boldly^ for 
I am going to drive.” 

The Queen uttered an exclamation of surprise, and got into 
the carriage ; the King and Monsieur followed her, and seated 
themselves by her side. 

‘‘ Come in, Laporte,” said the Queen. 

What, madame ! ” said the valet-de-chamhre, in the same 
carriage with your Majesties ? ” 

We must not this evening think about royal etiquette, but 
about the King’s safety. Come in, Laporte.” 

Laporte obeyed. 

Close the hoods,” said D’Artagnan. 

But will not that excite suspicion, sir ? ” demanded the 
Queen. 

Let her Majesty make herself perfectly easy ; I have my 
answer prepared.” 

They closed the hoods, and went off at a gallop down the 
Rue de Richelieu. On reaching the gate the leader of the 
post came up, at the head of a dozen men and holding a lan- 
tern in his hand. 

D’Artagnan made him a sign to approach. ^^Do you not 
know this carriage ? ” said he to the sergeant. 

No,” he answered. 

‘‘ Look at the arms.” 


474 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


The sergeant held the lantern to the panel. They are the 
coadjutor’s arms,” said he. 

Hush ! It ’s a love affair between him and Madame de 
Guémenée.” 

The sergeant began to laugh. 

“ Open the gate,” said he ; know what that is.” 

Then going close to the lowered hoods : A pleasant even- 
ing, monseigneur,” said he. 

Oh, you indiscreet fellow ! ” cried D’Artagnan ; you will 
get me turned off.” 

The gate creaked on its hinges, and D’Artagnan, seeing the 
road clear, applied the whip vigorously, and the horses set off 
at a round trot. 

In five minutes they had overtaken the Cardinal’s coach. 

Mousqueton,” cried D’Artagnan, raise the hood of her 
Majesty’s coach.” 

“ It is he himself ! ” said Porthos. 

As coachman ! ” exclaimed Mazarin. 

And with the coadjutor’s coach ! ” said the Queen. 

Corpo di Dio ! Monsou d’Artagnan,” said Mazarin, “ you 
are worth your weight in gold.” 


CHAPTER LV. 

HOW d’artagnan gained two hundred and nineteen, 

AND PORTHOS TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN, LOUIS BY 
SELLING STRAW. 

Mazarin wished to set off at once for Saint Germain, but 
the Queen declared that she would wait for the persons whom 
she had appointed to meet her. She offered Laporte’s place 
to the Cardinal, who accepted the offer and changed coaches. 

There was good and sufficient reason for the report spread- 
ing that the King would leave Paris in the night. By six 
o’clock in the evening ten or a dozen persons had been admit- 
ted into the secret of this departure, and, however discreet 
they might be individually, they could not give the orders for 
their own departure without the thing in some measure trans- 
piring. Besides, these persons each had one or two others '' ’ 
whom they were interested ; and as there was no doubt th^ 


D'ARTAGNAN AND PORTHOS SPECULATE. 475 

Queen was leaving Paris with terrible projects of revenge, every 
one had warned his friends or relations, so that the rmnoiir 
of the departure had run like a train of gunpowder through 
all the streets of the City. 

Ihe first coach to arrive after the Queen’s was Monsieur le 
Prince’s ; it contained M. de Condé, the Princess, and the Prin- 
cess-Dowager. All of them had been aroused in the middle of 
the night, and knew not what was going on. 

The second contained the Due d’Orléans, the Duchesse, la 
Grande Mademoiselle, and the Abbé de la Pivière, the Prince’s 
intimate friend and inseparable counsellor. 

The third contained M. de Longueville and the Prince de 
Conti, M. le Prince’s brother and brother-in-law. They got out 
and went up to the coach of the King and the Queen, to offer 
their homage to their Majesties. 

The Queen threw a searching glance into their carriage, the 
door of which had been left open, and saw that it was empty. 

But where, pray, is Madame de Longueville ? ” she asked. 

“ In fact, where is my sister ? ” asked M. le Prince. 

“ Madame de Longueville is ill, madame,” replied the Duke, 

and she charged me to make her apologies to your Majesty.” 

Anne glanced quickly at the Cardinal, who replied with an 
imperceptible nod. “ What do you say to that ? ” asked the 
Queen. 

I say that it is a hostage for the Parisians,” replied the 
Cardinal. 

“ Why did she not come ? ” asked the Prince, in a low voice, 
of his brother. 

Silence ! ” he replied ; she doubtless had her own reason.” 

She is destroying us,” murmured the Prince. 

She will save us,” replied Conti. 

The coaches were arriving in crowds. The Maréchal de la 
Meilleraie, the Maréchal Villeroy, Guitaut, Comminges, Ville- 
quier, came one behind the other. The two Musketeers came, 
in their turn, with the horses for D’ Artagnan and Porthos, who 
mounted. Porthos’s coachman took D’Artagnan’s place on the 
box of the royal coach, and Mousqueton took the coachman’s 
place, driving standing up, for reasons best known to himself, 
and looking like Automedon of old. 

The Queen, though occupied by a thousand details, looked 
.hi*’ D’Artagnan ; but the Gascon, with his usual prudence, 

\lready buried himself in the crowd. 


476 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


‘‘ Let us be the vanguard/’ said he to Porthos, and get good 
lodgings at Saint Germain, for no one will bother about us. I 
feel much fatigued.” 

“ I am actually staggering with drowsiness,” said Porthos. 

To think that we have not had the least fighting. Positively, 
the Parisians are sad blockheads ! ” 

‘‘ Is it not, rather, that we are very clever ? ” said D’Arta- 
gnan. 

Perhaps so.” 

“ And how is your fist ? ” 

Better. But do you think that we have got it this time ? ” 

What ? ” 

You your rank, and I my title.” 

Faith, yes ; I would almost wager it. Besides, if they do 
not remember it, I will make them remember it.” 

“ I hear the Queen’s voice,” said Porthos ; I believe she 
wants to get on horseback.” 

“ Oh ! she may wish it ; but ” — 

But what ? ” 

The Cardinal does not. Gentlemen,” continued D’Arta- 
gnan, addressing the two Musketeers, accompany the Queen’s 
carriage, and do not leave the doors. We go on to prepare 
lodgings.” 

And D’Artagnan spurred off toward St. Germain, accompa- 
nied by Porthos. 

Now let us start, gentlemen,” said the Queen. 

And the royal coach moved on, followed by all the other 
coaches and more than fifty horsemen. 

They reached St. Germain without accident. As the Queen 
stepped down from the carriage she found M. le Prince, who 
was standing, uncovered, to. give her his hand. 

“ What an awakening for the Parisians ! ” said Anne 
of Austria, radiant with joy. 

It is war,” said the Prince. 

^‘Well, let it be war! Have we not the conqueror of 
Bocroy, of Nordlingen, and of Lens with us ? ” 

The Prince bowed gratefully. 

It was three o’clock in the morning. The Queen was the 
first to enter the chateau, and the rest followed her. About 
two hundred persons had accompanied her flight. 

Gentlemen,” said the Queen, laughing, you will lodge in 
the chateau ; it is large and you will not want room ; but, as we 


D\iRTAGNAN AND PORTHOS SPECULATE. 477 


were not expected, I am informed that there are only three beds 
— one for the King, one for myself ” — 

And one for Mazarin,” said the Prince, in a low voice. 

And am I to sleep on the floor ? ” exclaimed Gaston d’Or- 
léans, with a troubled smile. 

‘‘No, monseigneur,” said Mazarin, “for the third bed is 
destined for your highness.” 

“ But you ? ” asked the Prince. 

“ Oh, I shall not go to bed at all ; I have work to do,” replied 
Mazarin. 

Gaston departed for the chamber where this bed was, with- 
out disturbing himself in the least as to where and how his 
wife and daughter were to be lodged. 

“Well, now I am going to bed,” said D’Artagnan. “ Come 
with me, Porthos.” 

Porthos followed his friend. He had implicit confidence 
in D’Artagnan’s intellect. 

They walked side by side along the square in front of the 
chateau, Porthos gazing with open eyes at D’Artagnan, who 
was making a calculation on his fingers. 

“ Four hundred, at a pistole each, make four hundred pistoles.” 

“ Yes,” said Porthos, “ four hundred pistoles. But what 
have we to do with four hundred pistoles ? ” 

“ A pistole is not enough,” continued D’Artagnan ; “ it is 
worth a louis.” 

“ What is worth a louis ? ” 

“ Four hundred, at one louis, make four hundred louis.” 

“ Four hundred ? ” said Porthos. 

“Yes ; there are two hundred, and they will want at least 
two for each person. At two for each, that makes four hun- 
dred.” 

“ But four hundred what ? ” 

“ Listen ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

And then, as there were all sorts of persons who were watch- 
ing with astonishment the arrival of the Court, he finished his 
sentence in a whisper into Porthos’s ear. 

“ I understand,” said Porthos, “ I understand wonderfully 
well, by my faith ! Two hundred louis each ! What a glorious 
thing ! But what will they say of us ? ” 

“Let them say what they like. Besides, how will they 
know that we are doing it ? ” 

“ But who will take charge of the distribution ? ” 


478 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


“ Is not Mousqueton there ? ” 

And my livery ? ’’ said Porthos ; ^^they will recognise my 
livery.” 

Let him turn his coat.” 

“ You are always right, my dear,” exclaimed Porthos. But 
where the devil do you get all the ideas that you have ? ” 

D’Artagnan smiled. 

The two friends went down the first street they came to. 
Porthos knocked at the door of the house on the right, while 
D’Artagnan knocked at that on the left. 

We want some straw,” said they. 

“ We have none, sir,” replied the people who opened the 
doors ; “ but apply to the forage dealer.” 

And where does he live ? ” 

The last great gate in the street.” 

“ On the right or left ? ” 

On the left.” 

And are there any other persons. in Saint Germain from 
whom it can be procured ? ” 

There is the landlord of the Mouton-couronné, and Fat 
Louis the farmer.” 

Where do they live ? ” 

In the Bue des Ursulines.” 

Both of them ? ” 

Yes.” 

Very good.” 

The two friends having had the latter places pointed out to 
them as exactly as the first, D’Artagnan first went to the for- 
age dealer’s house and bought from him a hundred and fifty 
bundles of straw for three pistoles. He then went to the inn- 
keeper, where he found Porthos, who had just purchased two 
hundred bundles for about the same sum ; and lastly, Louis 
the farmer sold them a hundi*ed and eighty — in all, four hun- 
dred and thirty bundles. 

That was all there was at Saint Germain. 

All this clearance occupied them only half an hour ; and 
Mousqueton, duly instructed, was placed at the head of this 
impromptu commerce. They charged him not to let a single 
straw leave his hands at less than a louis a bundle, and made 
him responsible for four hundred and thirty louis. 

Mousqueton shook his head ; he did not at all comprehend the 
speculation of the two friends. . 


D" ARTAGNAN AND PORTHOS SPECDLATE. 479 

D’Artagna,n, carrying three bundles of straw, returned to the 
chateau, where every one, shivering with cold and overpowered 
with sleep, was envying the King, the Queen, and Monsieur, on 
their camp beds. 

D’Artagnan’s entrance into the great salon produced an uni- 
versal burst of laughter. But he pretended not even to per- 
ceive that he was the object of general observation, and began 
to arrange his bed of straw with so much skill, address, and 
gayety that all these poor sleepy mortals, who had no means of 
sleeping, began to feel their mouths water. 

‘‘ Straw ! ’’ they cried, straw ! Where can one find straw ? ” 
I will show you,” said Porthos. 

And he conducted those who wanted it to Mousqueton, who 
generously distributed the bundles at a louis apiece. They 
thought it rather dear, but when one is very sleepy, who is 
there that would not pay two or three louis for some hours’ 
good sleep ? 

D’Artagnan gave up his bed to every one who requested him, 
so that he began ten fresh ones ; and as he was supposed to 
have paid, like the others, a louis for each bundle, he thus 
pocketed about thirty, louis in less than half an hour. By five 
in the morning the straw was worth four louis a bundle, and 
no more was to be had. 

D’Artagnan had taken care to put aside four bundles for 
himself. Having secured the key of the closet where he had 
concealed them, he went, accompanied by Porthos, to settle 
with Mousqueton, who, with great simplicity, and like a good 
steward as he was, delivered four hundred and thirty louis to 
him, and yet retained one hundred for himself. 

Mousqueton, who knew nothing of what had taken place at 
the chateau, could not imagine how the idea of selling straw 
had not occurred to him sooner. 

D’ Arfagnan put the gold into Jais hat, and as they returned 
settled his accounts with Porthos. They each received two 
hundred and fifteen louis. 

Porthos then first recollected that he had no straw for him- 
self. So he went back to Mousqueton, but Mousqueton had 
sold even to the last straw, keeping nothing for himself. 

He then returned to find D’Artagnan, who, thanks to his 
four bundles of straw, was just manufacturing, and enjoying 
by anticipation, a bed so soft, so well heaped up at the head 
and so well covered at the feet, that it would have excited the 


480 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


envy of the King himself, if the King had not slept so well in 
his own. 

D’Artagnan would not derange his bed for Porthos at any 
price ; but in consideration of four louis, which he counted him 
down, he agreed that Porthos should sleep with him. 

He laid his sword at his head and his pistols by his side, 
spread his cloak over his feet, placed his hat on his cloak, and 
stret(;hed himself voluptuously on the straw, which crackled 
under him. He was already beginning to court those soft 
dreams which the possession of two hundred louis, gained in a 
quarter of an hour, naturally engender, when a voice resounded 
at the door of the salon and made him start up. 

Monsieur d’Artagnan !” it cried, Monsieur d’Artagnan ! ” 

‘‘ Here ! ” said Porthos, here ! ” 

Porthos comprehended that if D’Artagnan went away, he 
should have the bed to himself. 

An officer approached. 

D’Artagnan raised himself on his elbow. 

Are you Monsieur d’Artagnan ? ” said the officer. 

Yes, sir ; what do you want with me ? ” 

‘‘ I am come in search of you.” 

From whom ? ” 

“ From his Eminence.” 

Tell monsignor that I am going to sleep, and recommend 
him to do the same.” 

‘‘ His Eminence is not in bed, nor does he intend to go to 
bed, and he wants you immediately.” 

The plague take Mazarin, who does not know how to sleep 
at proper times and seasons ! ” he muttered. What can he 
want with me ? Is it to make me a captain ? In that case I 
pardon him.” 

And the Musketeer got up, grumbling, took his sword, his 
pistols, his hat, and his cloak, and followed the officer ; while 
Porthos, remaining the sole and undivided possessor of the bed, 
endeavoured to imitate the beautiful arrangements of his friend. 

Monsou d’Artagnan,” said the (Cardinal, on seeing him 
for whom he had sent so inopportunely, I have not forgotten 
the zeal with which you have served me, and I am going to 
give you a proof of it.” 

Good ! ” thought D’Artagnan; this begins well.” 

Mazarin looked at the Musketeer and saw his countenance 
grow radiant. 


D' ART AG N AN AND P ORTHOS SPECULATE. 481 


Ah ! monsignor.” 

Monsieur D’Artagnan, are you really desirous of becoming 
a captain ?” 

“ Yes, monsignor.” 

“ And does your friend still desire to be a baron ? ” 

“ Monsignor, he is at this very moment dreaming that he is 
one.” 

Then,” said Mazarin, drawing from his portfolio the letter 
that he had before shown to D’Artagnan, take this despatch 
and carry it to England.” 

D’Artagnan looked at the letter ; it had no address. 

Am I not to know to whom I am to deliver it ? ” 

On reaching London yon will know ; at London only yon 
will tear the outer envelope.” 

And what are my instructions ? ” 

To obey in every particular the person to whom this letter 
is addressed.” 

D’Artagnan was going to ask further questions, when Maza- 
rin added : 

You will go to Boulogne, where you will find, at the Armes 
d’Angleterre, a young gentleman named Mordauiit.” 

Yes, monsignor ; and what am I to do with this gentleman ? ” 

“ You must follow him wherever he may lead you.” 

D’Artagnan looked at the Cardinal with an air of great 
astonishment. 

“ Now you have received your orders,” said Mazarin, go.” 

“ It is easy enough to say Go,” replied D’Artagnan ; but 
to go money is wanted, and I have none.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Mazarin, scratching his ear, “ you say that you 
have no money ? ” 

“No, monsignor.” 

“ But that diamond which I gave you yesterday evening.” 

“ I wish to keep it in memory of your Eminence.” 

Mazarin sighed. 

“ Living is dear in England, monsignor, and more especially 
for one who is sent on an extraordinary mission.” 

“ Hein ! ” said Mazarin, “ it is a very sober country, and they 
live very simply since the Revolution. But never mind.” 

He opened a drawer and took out a purse. 

“ What do you say to these thousand crowns ? ” 

D’Artagnan thrust out his lower lip to an unconscionable 
length. 


482 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


I say, monsignor, that it is very little, for I certainly shall 
not go alone.’’ 

“ I know that well enough,” replied Mazarin ; M. dii Vallon 
will accompany you, the worthy gentleman; for after you, 
my dear Monsou D’Artagnan, he is certainly the man in France 
whom I love and esteem the most.” 

Then, monsignor,” said D’Artagnan, pointing to the purse, 
of which Mazarin still retained possession, — then if you 
love and esteem him so much, you understand ” — 

“ So be it ! On his account I will add two hundred crowns.” 

The niggard ! ” muttered D’Artagnan. But on our re- 
turn,” he added aloud, ‘‘ we may at least expect, may we not, 
M. Porthos his barony, and I my promotion ? ” 

On the faith of Mazarin.” 

I should much prefer any other oath,” said D’Artagnan, in 
a low voice. Then, aloud, May I not present my respects to 
the Queen ? ” 

Her Majesty is asleep,” replied Mazarin, with great quick- 
ness, and you must set off without delay. Go, therefore, sir.” 

“ One word more, monsignor. Should there be any fighting 
where I am going, shall I fight ? ” 

You will do whatever the person to whom that letter is 
addressed may command you.” 

‘^Very well, monsignor,” said D’Artagnan, extending his 
hand to receive the bag; and I offer you my respects.” 

D’Artagnan dropped the bag gently into his large pocket. 
Then, turning to the officer, Sir,” said he, would you be so 
kind as to go and wake M. du Vallon by the command of his 
Eminence, and tell him that I am waiting for him at the 
stables ? ” 

The officer went off immediately, and with so much eager- 
ness that he appeared to D’Artagnan to have some interested 
motive in it. 

Porthos had just settled himself on his bed, and, according 
to his usual custom, was beginning to snore harmoniously, 
when he felt some one slap him on the shoulder. 

He thought that it was D’Artagnan, and did not stir. 

From the Cardinal,” said the officer. 

Hein ! ” said Porthos, opening his eyes wide ; what do 
you say ? ” 

I say that his Eminence is sending you to England, and 
that M. d’Artagnan is waiting for you at the stables.” 


MEWiS FROM ARA MIS. 


483 


Porthos heaved a deep sigh, arose, took his sword, his 
pistols, his hat, and his cloak, and went out, casting a lingering 
look of regret at the bed oii which he had promised himself 
such a sweet sleep. 

Scarcely had he turned his back before the officer was in- 
stalled in his place ; and he had not got beyond the threshold 
of the door before his successor was snoring vigorously. It 
was quite natural ; he was the only one in all that assemblage, 
except the King, the Queen, and Gaston d^Orleans, who slept 
gratis. 


CHAPTEE LVI. 

NEWS FROM ARAMIS. 

D’Artagnan had gone straight to the stables. The day 
was just dawning. He found his horse and Porthos’s fast- 
ened to a rack, but it was an empty rack. Pitying the poor 
animals, he went to a corner of the stable, where he saw the 
glitter of a small quantity of straw, which had doubtless 
escaped the night’s raid ; but in collecting this straw together 
with his foot the end of his boot encountered a round body, 
which, happening to be touched in a tender part, uttered a cry 
and rose up on its knees, rubbing its eyes. It was Mousqueton, 
who, having no straw for himself, had made free with that of 
the horses. 

Mousqueton ! ” said D’Artagnan ; come, come ; we must 
be off!” 

Mousqueton, on recognising the voice of his master’s friend, 
rose up hastily, and, in rising, let fall some of those louis he 
had gained so illegally that night. 

“ Oho ! ” said D’Artagnan, picking up one of them and put- 
ting it to his nose, here is some gold that has a very singular 
odour ; it smells of straw.” 

Mousqueton blushed so ingenuously, and appeared so much 
embarrassed, that the Gascon began to laugh, and said to him : 

Porthos would be angry, my dear Monsieur Mouston, but I 
pardon you. Only let us remember that this money ought 
to serve as a cure for our wound, and let us be gay. Come 
along ! ” 

Mousqueton instantly assumed a most hilarious look, saddled 


484 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


his master’s horse with great activity, and mounted his own 
witiiout making any grimace. 

While this was doing Porthos arrived with a very dissatis- ' 
fied look, and was to the last degree astonished to find D’Arta- 
gnan resigned and Mousqueton almost joyful. 

Ah ! ” said he, we have them, have we, you your pro- 
motion, and I my barony ? ” 

We are going to look for the commissions,” said D’Arta- 
gnan, and on our return Master Mazarini will sign them.” 

And where are we going ? ” demanded Porthos. 

To Paris first,” replied D’Artagnan ; I want to settle 
some business there.” 

Let us go to Paris, then,” said Porthos. 

And accordingly they set off together for Paris. 

On reaching the gates they were quite astonished at seeing 
the threatening aspect of the capital. Around an overturned 
and shattered carriage the people were uttering imprecations, 
while the occupants of the vehicle, an old man and two women, 
who had tried to escape, were prisoners. 

But when, on the contrary, D’Artagnan and Porthos asked 
permission to enter, they were received with every kind of 
caresses. They were taken for deserters from the royal party, 
and the people wished to attach them to their own. 

What is the King doing ? ” they were asked. 

He is asleep.” 

And the Spanish woman ? ” 

“ She is dreaming.” 

“ And the cursed Italian ? ” 

He is awake ; therefore remain firm ; for as they went 
away, it was for some purpose. But after all, as you are the 
strongest party, do not attack women and old men : take up 
with real emergencies.” 

The people heard these words with favour, and released the 
ladies, who thanked D’Artagnan by an eloquent look. 

“ Now, forward ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

And they continued their journey, passing through barri- 
cades, stepping over chains, pushed, questioned, and asking 
questions in turn. 

At the Place du Palais Royal D’Artagnan saw a sergeant, 
who was drilling five or six hundred citizens ; it was Planchet, 
who was putting into practice, for the benefit of the urban 
militia, the knowledge he had gained in the regiment of Pied- 


NEWS FROM ARA MIS. 


485 


mont. As he passed before D’Artagnan he recognised his old 
master. 

Good morning, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said Planchet, with 
a proud look. 

“ Good morning, Monsieur Dulaurier,’’ replied D’Artagnan. 

Planchet stopped short, looking at D’Artagnan with aston- 
ished eyes. The first rank, seeing their leader stop, stopped 
also ; the other ranks did the same, from the first to the last. 

“ These citizens are horribly ridiculous,’’ said D’Artagnan to 
Porthos. 

And he moved on again. 

^ In five minutes more they were at the Hôtel de la Chev- 
rette. The fair Madeline rushed out to meet D’Artagnan. 

My dear Madame Turquaine,” said D’Artagnan, if you 
have any money, hide it quick ; if you have any jewels, con- 
ceal them ; if you have any debtors, make them pay you ; if 
you have any creditors, do not pay them ! ” 

Why ? ” asked Madeline. 

Because Paris is going to be reduced to ashes, just as 
Babylon was, as you have doubtless heard.” 

And you leave me at such a time ? ” 

This very instant,” replied D’Artagnan. 

And where are you going ? ” 

If you could tell me you would render me a positive ser- 
vice.” 

Ah ! mon Dieu ! mon Dieu ! ” 

Have you any letters for me ? ” demanded D’Artagnan, 
making a sign to his hostess that she might spare her lamenta- 
tions, since lamentations were superfluous. 

There is one, just come.” 

And she gave the letter to D’Artagnan. 

From Athos ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan, who knew their 
friend’s firm, bold handwriting. 

“ Ah ! ” said Porthos, let us see what he says.” 

D’Artagnan opened the letter and read : 

Dear D^ Artagnan, dear Du Vallon : 

My good f riends, 2^erhaps you now hear from me for the 
last time. Aramis and I are very unhappy ; but God, our 
own courage, and the recollection of your friendship sustain 
us. Think of Raoul. I remind you of the papers that are at 
Blois ; and if in two'inonths and a half you hear nothing of 


486 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


us, take possession of them. Embrace the Viscount with all 
your heart for your de\ioted friend, 

‘^Athos.'>^ 

‘‘ Embrace him ! Pardieu, that I will ! ’’ said D’Artagnaii. 

And besides, he is on our road ; and should we have the 
misfortune to lose our poor Athos, from that day he becomes 
my son.” 

“ And I,” said Porthos, “ make him my universal legatee.” 

“ But let us see : Athos says something else.” 

Should you meet a certain M. Mordaunt in any of your 
travels, distrust him. I cannot say more to you on this sub- 
ject in my letter.’^ 

“M. Mordaunt!” said D’Artagnan, with surprise. 

“M. Mordaunt! Very well,” said Porthos, ‘‘we will re- 
member it. But see : there is a postscript from Aramis.” 

“ So there is ! ” said D’Artagnan. And he read : 

“ fPe conceal from you where we are, dear friends, knoiving 
your brotherly devotion, and being convinced that you would 
come and die with us.’’’’ 

“ Sacrebleu ! ” broke in Porthos, with an explosion of anger 
that made Mousqueton jump to the other end of the room ; 
“ can it be that they are in danger of their lives ? ” 

D’Artagnan continued : 

Athos bequeaths Raoul to you, and I bequeath you a ven- 
geance. Should you happily lay hands on a certain Mordaunt, 
tell Porthos to take him into a corner and to tivist his neck. 
I dare not tell you any more in a letter. 

“ Aramis.^’’ 

“ If that ’s all,” said Porthos, “ it is easy enough to do.” 

“ On the contrary,” said D’Artagnan, with a gloomy air, “ it 
is impossible.” 

“ And why so ? ” 

“ It is this very M. Mordaunt whom we are going to meet at 
Boulogne, and with whom we are going to England.” 

“ Well, but if, instead of going to meet this M. Mordaunt, 
we were to go and join onr friends ? ” said Porthos, with a 
gesture sufficient to daunt an army. 

“ I have thought of that,” said D'Artagnan : “ but this letter 
has neither date nor stamp.” -j 


NEWS FROM A RAMIS. 


487 


That is true,” said Porthos. 

And he began to pace up and down the room like a mad- 
man, gesticulating, and every moment drawing his sword half- 
way out of its scabbard. 

D’Artagnan remained standing like a man in consternation, 

I with the mo5t profound affliction painted on his countenance. 

! Ah ! T is bad,” said he. “ Athos insults us : he wishes 
to die without us. ’T is bad ! ” 

Mousqueton, seeing their great despondency, was melted to 
tears in his corner. 

“ Come, come,” said D’Artagnan, “ all this leads to nothing. 
Let us go and embrace Raoul, as we said ; and perhaps he may 
have heard some news from Athos.” 

“ I pity him who should look black at my master at this 
moment,” said Mousqueton ; “ I would not give him a sou for 
his skin.” 

They mounted their horses and set off. On reaching the 
j Rue Saint Denis, the friends found a vast concourse of jjeople 
assembled. M. de Beaufort had just arrived from the Ven- 
i domois, and the coadjutor was showirfg him to the joyous and 
surprised Parisians. 

With M. de Beaufort they considered themselves as hence- 
i forth invincible. 

The two friends went down a small street to avoid meeting 
the Duke, and reached the barrier of St. Denis. 

Is it true,” asked the Guards of the two cavaliers, “ that 
M. de Beaufort has reached Paris ? ” 

“ Nothing can be more true,” replied D’Artagnan, “ and the 
proof of it is, that he has sent us forward to meet his father, 
M. de Vendôme, who is also coming up.” 

Vive M. de Beaufort ! ” cried the Guards. 

And they made way respectfully to allow the messengers of 
the great Prince to pass. 

Once past the barrier and the road was actually devoured 
by these men, who were incapable of fatigue or discourage- 
ment. Their horses flew, and they never ceased talking of 
Athos and Aramis. 

Mousqueton suffered all torments imaginable ; but the ex- 
cellent servant consoled himself with the reflection that his 
two masters were experiencing other and greater sufferings ; for 
- he had come to consider D’Artagnan as Ids second master, and 
obeyed him even more promptly and implicitly than Porthos. 


488 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


The camp was between Saint Onier and Lambe. The two 
friends made a detour to the camp, and announced to the army 
the news of the flight of the King and Queen, of which, as 
yet, they had only heard vague rumours. They found Kaoul 
near his tent, lying on a bundle of fodder, from which his 
horse was furtively stealing an occasional mouthful. The 
young man’s eyes were red, and he appeared much depressed. 
The Maréchal de Grammont and the Comte de Guiche were at 
Paris, and the poor youth found himself very lonely. 

In a moment Kaoul raised his eyes, and saw the two cavaliers 
looking at him ; he recognised them, and ran to them with 
open arms. 

‘‘ Oh ! it is you, my dear friends ! ” he exclaimed ; are you 
come for me ? Will you take me with you ? Do you bring 
me any news of my guardian ? ” 

Have you not then received any yourself ? ” asked D’ Arta- 
gnan. 

Alas ! no, sir ; and I really cannot think what has become 
of him. I am, therefore, so anxious as to be quite unhappy.” 

And two large tears rôlled down the youth’s bronzed cheeks. 

Porthos turned away his head, that what was passing in his 
heart might not be betrayed in his honest face. 

“ What the devil ! ” said D’Artagnan, more affected than he 
had been for a long time ; do not despond, my friend ; if you 
have not received any letters from the Count, we have one.” 

Oh, really ! ” cried Raoul. 

And a very satisfactory one, too,” said D’Artagnan, seeing 
the delight that this news gave the young man. 

Have you brought it with you ? ” inquired Raoul. 

‘‘ Yes — that is to say, I had it,” replied D’Artagnan, pre- 
tending to search for it ; wait now — it ought to be here in 
my pocket ; he speaks about his return — does he not, Por- 
thos ? ” 

Thoroughly Gascon as he was, D’Artagnan did not wish to 
take the whole burden of this lie on his own shoulders. 

“ Yes,” said Porthos, coughing. 

‘‘ Oh, give it to me ! ” cried the young man. 

Eh ! And I read it so very lately, too ! Can I have 
lost it ? Oh, pécaïre ! There is a hole in my pocket.” 

“ Oh, yes, M. Raoul,” said Mousqueton, and the letter was 
so satisfactory ! These gentlemen read it to me, and I quite 
wept for joy.” 


NEWS FROM ARA 3ns. 


489 


“ But at least, M. d’Artagnan, you know where he is ? ” 
asked Kaoul, partly restored to serenity. 

“ Oh, yes, certainly I know that,” said D’Artagnan ; but 
it is a secret.” 

“ Not to me, I hope ? ” 

No, not to you ; so I am going to tell you where he is.” 

Porthos looked at D’Artagnan with his eyes wide open in 
astonishment. 

“ Where the devil shall I say that he is, so that he may not 
attempt to go and join him ? ” muttered D’Artagnan. 

Well, now, where is he, sir ? ” said Eaoul, in his soft and 
coaxing voice. 

“ He is in Constantinople ! ” 

“ Among the Turks ! ” cried Eaoul, quite frightened ; good 
God ! what are you telling me ? ” 

‘‘ What, does this frighten you ? ” said D’Artagnan. “ Bah ! 
what are the Turks to such men as the Comte de la Fère and 
the Abbé d’Herblay ? ” 

Ah ! his friend is with him ? ” said Eaoul. That re- 
assures me a little.” 

Has he not talent, then, that demon of a D’Artagnan ? ” 
said Porthos to himself, amazed by his friend’s subtilty. 

“ Now,’’ said D’Artagnan, anxious to change the conversa- 
tion, ‘‘ here are fifty pistoles which the Count sent by the same 
courier. I presume that you have not too much money, an^ 
that they are welcome.” 

I still have twenty pistoles, sir.” 

Very well ; take these just the same ; that will make 
seventy.” 

And if you want any more,” said Porthos, putting his hand 
to his fob. 

<‘No, I thank you,” said Eaoul, colouring, — thank you a 
thousand times, sir.” 

At this moment Olivain made his appearance. 

“ By the way,” said D’Artagnan, in such a manner that the 
lacquey might hear it, ‘‘ are you satisfied with Olivain ? ” 

Yes, pretty well for that.’’ 

Olivain pretended not to have heard, and entered the tent. 

“ And what fault do . you find with the rascal ? ” 

He is a glutton,” answered Eaoul. 

Oh, sir ! ” said Olivain, coming forward at this accusation. 

<< He is a bit of a thief.” 


490 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


Oh ! sir, oh ! ” 

“ And, above all, he is a desperate coward.” 

‘‘ Oh ! oh ! oh ! sir, you dishonour me ! ” said Olivain. 

“ Peste ! ” cried D’Artagnan ; understand. Master Olivain, 
that persons of our stamp do not allow ourselves to be served by 
(‘owards. Rob your master, eat his sweetmeats and preserves, 
and drink his wine ; but, ca2^ de dio^i, be not a poltroon, or I 
will cut off your ears. Look at M. Houston there ; ask him 
to show you the honourable wounds he has received ; and 
observe what a dignity his habitual bravery has impressed 
upon his countenance.” 

Mousqueton was in the third heaven, and would have em- 
braced D’Artagnan had he dared. In the meantime he deter- 
mined, in his own mind, to get himself killed for him on the 
first opportunity. 

“ Dismiss this rascal, Raoul,” said D’Artagnan ; for if he 
be a coward, he will some day dishonour you.” 

M. Raoul says that I am a coward,” exclaimed Olivain, 

because, the other day, he wished to fight a cornet of 
the regiment of Gramm ont, and I refused to accompany 
him.” 

Master Olivain, a lacquey should always be ^obedient,” 
said D’Artagnan, with great severity. 

And then, taking him aside, he said : 

, You did well if your master was wrong, and here is a 
crown for you ; but if he is ever insulted and you (K) not let 
yourself be cut in pieces for him, I will cut out your tongue 
and wipe your face with it. Remember ! ” 

Olivain bowed and put the crown into his pocket. 

And now, friend Raoul,” said D’Artagnan, ^^M. du Vallon 
and myself are going as ambassadors. I cannot tell you for 
what object ; I do not even know myself ; but if you should 
want anything, write to Madelon Turquaine, Hôtel de la 
Chevrette, Rue Tiquetonne, and draw upon that fund as on a 
"banker’s — with discretion, however, for I warn you that it is 
not so well garnished as M. d’Emery’s.” 

And having embraced his temporary ward, he turned him 
over to the vigorous arms of Porthos, who raised him from the 
earth and held him for a moment .suspended against his 
noble heart, redoubtable giant that he was ! 

Come,” said D’Artagnan, we must be off.” 

And they resumed their journey toward Boulogne, which 


NEWS FROM A RAMIS, 


491 


they reached toward evening, their horses bathed in sweat 
and white with foam. 

Ten paces from the spot where they paused before entering 
the town stood a young man dressed in black, who seemed 
to be waiting for some one, and who, from the moment 
that he had seen them, had not once taken his eyes from 
them. 

D’Artagnan went near him, and perceiving that he was still 
gazing at him : 

Hé, my friend,” said he, “ I do not like to be stared at.” 

Sir,” said the young man, seeming not to notice D’Arta- 
gnan’s construction of his conduct, pray, are you not come 
from Paris ? ” 

D’Artagnan thought that it was some inquisitive person 
who wished to learn the news from the capital. 

Yes, sir,” he replied, in a milder tone. 

Are you not to lodge at the Armes d^ Angleterre ? ” 

Yes, sir.” 

Are you not intrusted with a mission from his Eminence 
Cardinal de Mazarin ? ” 

Yes, sir.” 

“ In that case,” said the young man, ‘‘ I am the man whom 
you want — I am M. Mordaunt.” 

Ah ! ” said D’Artagnan, in a low voice, the man whom 
Athos ^^de me distrust.” 

Ah ! ” murmured Porthos, “ the man whom Aramis wants 
me to choke.” 

Both of them looked earnestly at the young man, who, mis- 
taking the expression of their eyes, said : 

Do you doubt my word ? In that case, I am ready to 
give you every proof.” 

sir,” replied D’Artagnan, ^^and we place ourselves 
under your directions.” 

Well, then, gentlemen, we will start without delay ; for 
this is the last day that the Cardinal appointed me to wait. 
My vessel is ready ; and if you had not come, I should have 
left without you, for General Oliver Cromwell must be im- 
patiently expecting my return.” 

Aha ! ” said D’Artagnan, we are sent to General Crom- 
well ? ” 

Have you not a letter for him ? ” asked the young man. 

I have a letter with a double envelope, which I was not 


492 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


to remove till I should reach London ; but since you tell me 
to whom it is addressed, it is useless to wait till then.” 

D’Artagnan tore open the cover. 

It was, in fact, addressed : 

To M. Oliver Cromwell, general of the troops of the 
English nation^’’ 

Ah ! ” said D’Artagnan, ^^a singular commission.” 

Who is this Oliver Cromwell ? ” asked Porthos, in a low 
voice. 

A former brewer,” replied D’Artagnan. 

“ And can Mazarin be wanting to speculate in beer, as we 
did in straw ? ” asked Porthos. 

Come, come, gentlemen,” said Mordaunt impatiently, let 
us start.” 

“ What ! ” cried Porthos, without our supper ? Cannot 
this M. Cromwell wait a little ? ” 

Yes, but I ” — said Mordaunt. 

Well, and you,” said Porthos ; what then ? ” 

‘‘ I am in a hurry.” 

Oh, if it is for you,” said Porthos, that is nothing to me ; 
and I will sup, either with your permission or without your 
permission.” 

The young man’s expressionless eyes lighted up, and ap- 
peared about to emit a flash ; but he restrained himself, 

“ Sir,” continued D’Artagnan, you must make allowance 
for two famished travellers. Besides, our supper will not 
delay you long. We will spur on to the hotel. You go on 
foot to the port, and we will eat a morsel and be there as soon 
as you are.” 

“ Just as you please, gentlemen, provided we depart,” said 
Mordaunt. 

This is a lucky thing,” murmured Porthos. 

“The name of the vessel ?” demanded D’Artagnan. 

“ The ^ Standard.’ ” 

“Very good. We ’ll be on board in half an hour.” 

And giving their spurs to their horses, they hastened to the 
hotel. 

“What do you say about this young man?” asked D’Arta- 
gnan, as they galloped along. 

“ I say that he does not suit me at all,” replied Porthos, 
“ and that I felt a strong inclination to follow Aramis’s 
advice.” 


NEWS FROM ARAMIS. 


493 


Take good care that you do not, my dear Portbos,” said 
D’Artagnan ; ‘‘he is an envoy of General Cromwell , and we 
should be but poorly received, I fancy, if he were told that we 
had twisted the neck of his contidant.” 

“ Nevertheless,” said Porthos, “ I have always noticed that 
Aramis gives excellent advice.” 

“ Listen,” said D’Artagnan. “ When our embassy is fin- 
ished ” — 

“Well?” 

“ If he should conduct us back to France ” — 

“ Well, what then ? ” 

“ Why — then — we shall see.” 

The two friends reached the hotel, where they made an 
excellent supper ; then they hastened down to the harbour. A 
brig was ready to set sail, and they saw Mordaunt walking up 
and dowii its deck with impatience. 

“ It is incredible,” said D’Artagnan, whilst the boat was 
taking them on board the “ Standard,” “ it is astonishing how 
much this young man resembles some one I have known, but 
I cannot tell who it is.” 

They reached the ladder, and the next minute they were 
on board. 

But the embarkation of the horses occupied more time, and 
the brig could not weigh anchor before eight o’clock in the 
evening. 

The young man stamped with impatience, and ordered that 
every inch of canvas should be spread. 

Porthos, almost worn out by three sleepless nights and a 
journey of seventy leagues on horseback, had retired to the 
cabin, and was asleep. 

D’Artagnan, overcoming his repugnance to Mordaunt, 
walked up and down the deck with him, and related a 
thousand anecdotes to make him speak. 

Mousqueton was seasick. 


494 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


CHAPTER LVII. 

a THE FAITHLESS, PERJURED SCOTSMAN SOLD 
HIS MONARCH FOR A BIT OF OOLD.’’ 

And now our readers must leave the Standard ’’ to glide 
smoothly on, not Londonward, as Porthos and D’Artagnan 
supposed, but to Durham, where letters from England, re- 
ceived while he was tarrying at Boulogne, had commanded 
Mordaunt to proceed ; and must follow us to the royal camp, 
on this side of the Tyne, near the town of Newcastle. 

There, between two rivers, on the frontiers of Scotland, but 
on English soil, are pitched the tents of a small army. It 
is midnight. Some men, who by their bare legs and short 
kilts, their chequered plaids and the feather adorning their 
bonnets, are seen to be Highlanders, are keeping a careless 
watch. The moon, gliding behind two big clouds, whenever 
it shines out lights up the muskets of the sentinels, and 
strongly defines the walls, roofs, and steeples of the town, 
which Charles I. (in hope of an accommodation) had just 
surrendered to the Parliamentary troops, as he bad already 
done Oxford and Newark, which held out for him. 

At one end of the camp, near an immense tent in which 
the Scottish officers are holding a sort of council presided 
over by the old Earl of Leven, their chief, a man, dressed as 
a cavalier, is asleep on the grass, with his right hand resting 
on his sword. 

About fifty paces distant another man, dressed also as a 
cavalier, is talking with a Scottish sentinel ; and, thanks to 
the knowledge he seems to have acquired of the English lan- 
guage, although a foreigner he manages to understand the 
Perthshire dialect of the sentinel whom he is questioning. 

Just as it was striking one o’clock in the town of New- 
castle, the sleeper awoke ; and after making all the contor- 
tions that a man generally does when waking from a profound 
sleep, he looked earnestly around him. Seeing that he was 
alone, he arose and, making a circuit, went past the man who 
was talking to the sentinel. This person had, in reply to his 
questions, doubtless obtained all the information he required ; 
for soon afterwards he took leave of the sentinel, and without 
hesitation followed the path taken by the cavalier, who 


THE FAITHLESS, PERJURED SCOTSMAN^ 495 


had just passed him, and had stopped now under the shadow 
of a tent, and was waiting for him. 

“ Well, now, my dear friend ? ” he said, in the purest 
French that was ever spoken from Rouen to Tours. 

Well, my friend, there is no time to be lost — we must 
warn the King.’’ 

What is the matter, then ? ” 

It would take too long to tell you ; and you will hear it 
presently. Besides, one word uttered here might ruin every- 
thing. Let us go and find Lord de Winter.” 

They both walked to the other end of the camp ; but as it 
did not cover more than five hundred feet square they soon 
reached the tent they sought. 

Is your master asleep, Tony ? ” said one of the cavaliers 
to a domestic who was lying in the first division of the tent, 
which served as an anteroom. 

“ No, Count,” replied the lacquey, I do not think that he 
is, or if so it must be* very recently, as he was walking in his 
tent for two hours after he left the King, and his steps have 
not ceased more than ten minutes. Besides,” continued the 
lacquey, raising the door of the tent, you can see for your- 
selves.” 

In fact. De Winter was seated near an opening that served 
as a window and allowed the night air to enter ; he was sor- 
rowfully gazing at the moon, which, as we have just said, was 
sailing between two large black clouds. 

The two friends approached De Winter, who, with his head 
resting on his hand, was looking at the heavens. He had not 
heard them enter, and remained in the same attitude until he 
felt some one lay his hand on his shoulder ; then he turned 
round, recognised Athos and Aramis, and stretched out his 
hand to them. 

Have you remarked,” said he, that the moon is blood 
red this evening?” 

No,” replied Athos ; it seemed to me to be the same as 
usual.” 

Look, chevalier,” said De Winter. 

I confess,” said Aramis, that I agree with the Comte de 
la Fère, and that I can see nothing peculiar.” 

“ Earl,” said Athos, ‘‘ in a situation so precarious as ours, 
we must examine the earth and not the heavens. Have you 
watched our Scots, and are you sure of them ? ” 


496 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


The Scots ? ’’ demanded De Winter ; what Scots ? ’’ 

Why, onrs, pardien ! ” said Athos; those whom the King 
has trusted — the Earl of Leven’s Scots.’’ 

Ko,” said De Winter. Then he added : So you tell me 
that you cannot see, as I do, the red colour that covers the 
heavens ? ” 

‘‘Not in the least,” answered Athos and Aramis at the 
same time. 

Tell me,” said De Winter, still occupied with the same 
idea, is there not a tradition in France that the evening 
before Henry IV. was assassinated, when he was playing at 
chess with M. de Bassompierre, he saw some spots of blood 
on the chess-board ? ” 

‘Wes,” replied Athos, “ and the Marshal has often told me 
of it himself.” 

“ That is it,” murmured De Winter ; “ and the next day 
Henry was murdered.” 

“ But what connection has this vision of Henry lY. with 
you, Earl ? ” asked Athos. 

“None whatever, gentlemen; and, in truth, I am wrong to 
trouble you with such things. Then your visit at my tent, at 
this hour, declares that you must be the bearers of some impor- 
tant news.” 

“ Yes, my Lord,” said Athos, “ I want to speak to the King.” 

“ To the King ? But he is- asleep.” 

“ I have something of great importance to disclose to him.” 

“ Can it not be deferred till to-morrow ? ” 

“ He must know it immediately ; even now, perhaps, it is 
too late.” 

“ Let us go in, then, gentlemen,” said De Winter. 

De Winter’s tent was pitched by the side of the royal tent, 
and a kind of corridor led from the one to the other. This 
passage was guarded not by a sentinel, but by the King’s con- 
fidential valet ; so that, in any emergency, Charles might be 
able to communicate instantaneousl}^ with his faithful servant. 

“ These gentlemen accompany me,” said De Winter. 

The lacquey bowed and permitted them to pass. 

There, on a camp bed, clothed in his dark-coloured doublet, 
with his long boots on, his belt loosened, and his hat near him, 
lay Charles I. asleep, having yielded to unconquerable drowsi- 
ness. 

The three men approached him, and Athos, who was in 




! 


“ THE FAITHLESS, PERJURED SCOTSMANr 497 

front, looked down for an instant in silence on that pale and 
noble face, encircled by liis long black hair, which adhered 
to his forehead, moistened by a troubled dream and marbled 
by prominent blue veins, which seemed to be swelled by tears 
surcharging his wearied eyes. 

Athos drew a deep sigh, which awakened the King, so lightly 
did he sleep' 

He opened his eyes. 

Ah/’ he said, raising himself on his elbow, << is it you, 
Comte de la Fère ? ” 

“ Yes, Sire,” responded Athos. 

“ You watch while I sleep, and you are come to tell me 
some news ? ” 

‘‘Alas! Sire,” replied Athos, “your Majesty has guessed 
aright.” 

“ Then the news is bad ? ” said the King, with a melancholy 
smile. 

“ Yes, Sire.” 

“ Never mind ; the messenger is welcome ; and you can never 
present yourself before me without giving me pleasure — you, 
whose devotion distinguishes neither country nor misfortune 
— you, who were sent to me by Henrietta ; whatever may be 
the intelligence you bring me, speak with confidence.” 

“ Sire, Cromwell has arrived at Newcastle during the night.” 

“ Ah ! ” said the King ; “ to fight me ? ” 

“ No, Sire, — to buy ynu.” 

“ What are you saying ? ” 

“ I say. Sire, that four hundred thousand pounds sterling 
are owing to the Scottish troops.” 

“ For arrears of pay ? Yes, I know it ; for nearly a year 
my brave and faithful Scots have been fighting for honour.” 

Athos smiled. 

“ Well, Sire, although honour may be a fine thing, they are 
tired of fighting for it ; and this very night they have sold you 
for two hundred thousand pounds ; that is to say, for half of 
what was due to them.” 

“ Impossible ! ” exclaimed the King ; “ the Scots sell their 
King for two hundred thousand pounds ? ” 

“ The Jews sold their God for thirty pieces of silver.” 

“ And who is the Judas who makes this infamous bargain ? ” 

“ The Earl of Leven.” 

“ Are you sure of this, sir ? ” 


498 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ I heard it with my own ears.’’ 

The King heaved a deep sigh as if his heart was breaking, 
and his head fell upon his hands. 

Oh, the Scots ! ” he exclaimed, the Scots, whom I called 
my most faithful subjects ! — the Scots, in whom I confided when 
I might have fled to Oxford ! — the Scots, my countrymen ! — 
the Scots, my brethren ! But are you quite certain, sir ? ” 

As I lay on the ground behind Lord Leven’s tent, I lifted 
up the canvas. I saw and heard everything.” 

And when is this detestable bargain to be ratified ? ” 

This very morning ; as your Majesty sees, no time must be 
lost.” 

In doing what ? Do you not say that I am sold ? ” 

‘‘To cross the Tyne, reach Scotland, join Montrose, who will 
not sell you.” 

“ And what should I do in Scotland ? A partisan warfare ! 
Such a war is unworthy of a king.” 

“ The example of Robert Bruce will be your excuse. Sire.” 

“Ko, no ; 1 have struggled too long ! If they have sold me, 
let them give^m^ up, and let the eternal disgrace of such treason 
rest upon their heads.” 

“ Sire,” said Athos, “ perhaps a king ought to act in that 
manner ; but a husband and a father must act differently. I 
came here in the name of your wife and daughter ; and in their 
name, and in that of the two children that you have in London, 

I say to you : Live, Sire, for God wishes it ! ” 

The King arose, tightened his belt, girded on his sword, and 
wiping the moisture from his brow : 

“ Well, then,” said he, “ what must we do ? ” 

“ Sire, have you one regiment in the whole army in which I 
you can confide ?” . j 

“ De Winter,” said the King, “ have you confidence in the j 
fidelity of yours ? ” 

“ Sire, they are but men ; and men have either become very 
feeble or very wicked. I believe in their fidelity, but I can- 
not answer for them. I would intrust them with my own life, 
but should hesitate to intrust them with your Majesty’s.” 

“ Well, then,” said Athos, “ for want of a regiment, we — 
three devoted men — we must suffice. Your Majesty must 
mount your horse and place yourself in the midst of us. We 
will cross the Tyne and gain Scotland, where we shall be safe.” 

“ Is that your advice, De Winter ? ” demanded the King. 


*^THE FAITHLESS, PERJURED SCOTSMANS 499 
: Yes, Sire.’’ 

And is it yours, Monsieur d’Herblay ? ” 

Yes, Sire.” 

Well, then, let it be as you wish. De Winter, give the 
orders.” 

. De Winter left the tent; meantime the King finished dress- 
ing. The first beams of day were beginning to penetrate the 
tent when De Winter returned. 

‘‘ Everything is ready. Sire,” said he. 

And for us ? ” asked Athos. 

Grimaud and Blaisois are holding your horses, ready 
' saddled.” 

In that case,” said Athos, let us not lose one moment, 

; but go.” 

Yes, let us go,” said the King. 

“ Sire,” said Aramis, “ will not your Majesty inform your 
I friends ? ” 

; My friends ! ” exclaimed Charles I. ; I have no longer any 
( but you three — one a friend of twenty years’ standing, who 
i has never forgotten me — two friends of a week’s standing, 
whom I shall never forget. Come, gentlemen, conie ! ” 

The King left the tent and found his horse ready. It was 
a dun charger, which he had ridden for three years, and to 
i which he was very much attached, 
i The horse, on seeing him, neighed with delight. 

I Ah ! ” said the King, “ I was unjust : here, if not a friend, 

I is at any rate a creature that loves me. Thou wilt be faithful 
to me, wilt thou not, Arthus ? ” 

And, as if he understood these words, the horse rubbed his 
nose against the King, lifting up his lips with pleasure, and 
displaying his white teeth. 

Yes, yes,” said the King, patting him, — “ yes, Arthus, I 
am satisfied with thee.” 

And with that agility which made the King one of the best 
horsemen in Europe, Charles leaped into his saddle, and turn- 
ing to Athos, Aramis, and De Winter said : 

Well, gentlemen, I am ready for you.” 

But Athos stood motionless, with his eyes fixed, and his 
hand pointing toward a dark line that followed the course of 
the Tyne, and stretched far beyond the ends of the camp. 

What is that line ? ” asked Athos ; for the last shades of 
night, contending with the first rays of morning, did not yet 


600 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


permit him clearly to distinguish ; what is that line ? I did 
not see it yesterday.’’ 

It is, doubtless, the mist rising from the river,” said the 
King. 

Sire, it is something more solid than vapour.” 

In fact,” said De Winter, “ I can perceive something like 
a reddish-coloured rampart.” 

It is the enemy, coming out of Newcastle and surround- 
ing us,” cried Athos. 

The enemy ! ” exclaimed the King. 

Yes, the enemy. It is too late. Look — yonder under 
that ray of the sun — yonder toward the town — you may see 
the glitter of the Ironsides.” 

That was the name that had been given to the Cuirassiers 
whom Cromwell had made his Guard. 

‘‘ Ah ! ” said the King, we shall soon know whether my 
Scots have betrayed me.” 

‘‘ What are you going to do. Sire ? ” cried Athos. 

To command them to charge, and to crush those wretched 
rebels.” 

And the King, spurring his horse, galloped toward the Earl 
of Leven’s tent. 

Let us follow him,” said Athos. 

Come along ! ” said Aramis. 

Can the King be wounded ? ” said De Winter ; “ I per- 
ceive spots of blood on the ground.” ' 

And he dashed off after the two friends. Athos stopped 
him. 

Go and muster your regiment,” said he ; “I see that we 
shall soon require it.” 

De Winter turned his horse, and the two friends continued 
their course. In two seconds the King had reached the tent 
of the commander-in-chief of the Scottish army. He leaped 
from his horse and entered the tent. 

The General was surrounded by his principal officers. 

The King ! ” they exclaimed, rising and looking at one 
another in stupefaction. 

Charles stood before them, with his hat on his head, a 
frowning brow, and rapping his boot with his riding- whip. 

Yes, gentlemen,” he said, the King in person — the 
King — who comes to demand of you an account of what is 
taking place,” 


THE FAITHLESS, PERJURED SCOTSMAN^ 501 


Why, what is the matter, Sire ? ’’ asked the Earl of Leven. 

The matter is, sir,’^ replied the King, giving way to a 
burst of passion, that Cromwell reached Newcastle last 
night, and that you, knowing this, have not informed me ; it 
is, that the enemy is just leaving the town and barring our 
passage across the Tyne — that your sentinels must have seen 
this movement and have not apprised me of it — it is, that, 
by an infamous treaty, you have sold me to the Parliament 
for two hundred thousand pounds. Of this, at any rate, I 
have been informed. "This, then, is the matter, gentlemen ! 
Therefore answer, or exculpate yourselves ; for I accuse you 
of it!” 

Sire,” stammered the Earl of Leven, <^your Majesty must 
have been deceived by some false report.” 

I have with my own eyes seen the enemy’s army stretched 
out between me and Scotland,” said Charles ; and I may 
almost say that I myself heard the particulars of the bargain 
discussed.” 

The Scottish officers looked at one another with a frown. 

Sire,” murmured the Earl of Leven, shrinking under the 
weight of his shame, — Sire, we are willing to afford you 
every proof of our devotion.” 

I demand only one,” said the King ; ‘‘ place the army in 
battle array and march against the enemy.” 

That is impossible. Sire,” replied the Earl. 

How ! Impossible ! And what can prevent ’ it ? ” cried 
Charles I. 

‘‘ Your Majesty is well aware that there is a truce between 
us and the English army,” replied the Earl. 

If there be a truce, the English army has broken it by 
issuing from the city contrary to the conventions, which 
required that they should remain shut up in it. Now I tell 
you that you must pass through this army with me, and 
return to Scotland. Should you not do this, well, then, choose 
between the two names that hold up men to the greatest con- 
tempt and execration of their fellows : you are either cowards 
or you are traitors.” 

The eyes of the Scots flashed fire, and, as often happens on 
similar occasions, they passed from the extreme of shame to 
that of audacity. Two chieftains of the clans advanced, one 
on each side of the King. 

“ Well, then,” they said, “ we have promised to deliver Eng- 


502 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


land and Scotland from him who, for five and twenty years, 
has been consuming the blood and the gold of England and of 
Scotland. We have promised it, and we keep our promise. 
King Charles Stuart, you are our prisoner ! ” 

And they put forth their hands to seize the King ; but before 
they could touch his person even with the end of their fingers 
they both fell, the one insensible and the other dead. 

Athos had knocked down one with the butt end of his pistol, 
and Aramis had passed his sword through the body of the 
other. 

Then, while the Earl of Leven and the other chieftains 
started back in surprise and consternation at this unexpected 
assistance, which seemed to have fallen from heaven, for him 
whom they already considered their prisoner, Athos and Aramis 
drew the King from the tent into which he had so rashly 
ventured, and leaping on their horses, which the lacqueys 
held ready, all of them galloped toward the royal tent. 

On their way they perceived De Winter hurrying up with 
his regiment. The King made him a sign to accompany them. 


CHAPTER LVIII. 

THE AVENGER. 

All four entered the tent. They had no plan arranged ; one 
had to be made. 

The King sank into a chair. 

“ I am lost ! ” he exclaimed. 

No, Sire,” replied Athos ; ^^you are only betrayed.” 

The King heaved a deep sigh. 

“ Betrayed, betrayed by the Scots, amongst whom I was 
born, and whom I have always preferred to the English ! Oh, 
the wretches ! ” 

“ Sire,” said Athos, this is not the time for recriminations, 
but the moment when you should prove that you are a king and 
a gentleman. Rise up. Sire, rise up ! for you have here three 
men who, you may be sure, will never betray you. Ah, if we 
were only five ! ” murmured Athos, thinking of D’Artagnan and 
Porthos. 

What do you say ? ” demanded Charles, starting up. 


THE AVENGER. 


503 


I say, Sire, that there is only one method. Lord de Winter 
answers for his regiment, or nearly so, — let us not cavil about 
words. He will put himself at the head of his men ; we will 
I place ourselves by your Majesty’s side, cut our way through 
J Cromwell’s army, and gain Scotland.” 

I “ There is also another plan,” said Aramis : let one of us 
assume his Majesty’s dress and mount his horse. Thus, 
^ while they are eagerly pursuing him, the King may perhaps 
escape.” 

The advice is good,” said Athos, and if his Majesty will 
do one of us that honour, we shall be very grateful to him.” 

“ What do you think of this advice. De Winter ? ” said the 
! King, looking with admiration at the two men, whose only 
I anxiety appeared to be to accumulate on their own heads the 
I dangers that threatened him. 

I I think. Sire, that if there is any plan that can save your 
; Majesty M. d’Herblay has just proposed it. I therefore humbly 
i entreat your Majesty to make your choice quickly, for we have 
i no time to lose.” 

But if I agree to it, it is death, or at least imprisonment, 
to him who shall take my place.” 

^^It is the honour of having saved his King,” said De 
Winter. 

The King looked at his old friend with tears in his eyes, 
took off the ribbon of the Holy Ghost, which he wore out of 
compliment to the two Frenchmen who accompanied him, and 
threw it over the neck of De Winter, who received, kneeling, 
this terrible proof of his sovereign’s friendship and confidence. 

It is just,” said Athos ; “ he has served him longer than 
i we have.” 

The King heard these words, and turned, with tears in his 
eyes. 

“ Gentlemen,” said he, wait one moment ; I have also a 
cordon to give to each of you. 

And going to a chest, in which his own orders were placed, 
he took from it two ribbons of the Garter. 

These orders cannot be for us,” said Athos. 

“ Vnd why not, sir ? ” demanded Charles. 

These orders are almost regal, and we are but simple gen- 
tleine ” 

“T.ymitall the thrones of the earth to pass before your 
eyes,” [aid the King, and find me nobler hearts than yours. 


504 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


No, no, you do not do yourselves justice, gentlemen ; but I am 
here to do it for you. Kneel, Count.^’ 

The Count knelt, and the King passed the ribbon over his 
shoulder from left to right, as was usual ; then raising his 
sword, instead of the customary formula : I dub you a knight ; 
be brave, faithful, and loyal,^^ he said : 

You are brave, faithful, and loyal ; I dub you a knight, 
Count.” 

Then turning to Aramis : It is now your turn, Chevalier,” 
said he. 

And the same ceremony was repeated, while, aided by the 
squires. De Winter took off his brass cuirass, that he might 
more closely resemble the King. 

Then, when Charles had finished with Aramis as he had 
done with Athos, he embraced them both. 

“ Sire,” said De Winter, who, now that he was exhibiting 
this proof of his great devotion, had resumed all his energy 
and courage, we are ready.” 

The King looked at the three gentlemen. 

“ Then we must flee ? ” said he. 

To flee through an army. Sire,” said Athos, is called 
charging, in every country of the world.” 

Then I shall die sword in hand,” said Charles. Count, 
Chevalier, should I ever again be King ” — ' 

Sire, you have already honoured us more than, as simple 
gentlemen, we had a right to expect ; therefore the gratitude 
is due from us.. But let us not lose time, for we have already 
lost too much.” 

The King for a last time held out his hand to them all, ex- 
changed hats with De Winter, and left the tent. 

De Winter’s regiment was drawn up on an elevated spot 
that commanded the camp. The King, followed b} his three 
friends, went to it. 

The Scottish camp appeared to be at last roused ; the men 
had left their tents and had taken their place in order of 
battle. 

Do you see ? ” said the King ; ‘‘ perhaps they repent and 
are ready to march.” ■> 

If they repent. Sire,” said Athos, they will follow 
Good ! ” said the King. What shall we do ? ” uan 
Let us reconnoitre the enemy,” said Athos. 

The eyes of the little group were instantly fixed n that 







"YOU ARE BRAVE, FAITHFUL, AND LOYAL; I DUB YOU A KNIGHT.” 








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THE AVENGER. 


505 


' dark line, which, at dawn of day, they had taken for a mist, 

1 and which the first beams of the sun had proved to be an army 
I drawn up in battle array. The air was pure and clear, as it 
|l generally is at that early hour. The regiments, with their 
standards, and even the colours of the uniforms and horses, 
were now plainly perceptible. 

On an eminence, a little in advance of the enemy^s position, 
they beheld a short, thick-set, and heavy-looking man make 
his appearance. He was surrounded by several officers. He 
j pointed a telescope toward the group that included the King. 

Does that man know your Majesty personally ? asked 
Aramis. 

Charles smiled. 

I “ That is Cromwell,’’ said he. 

Then pull your hat over your eyes. Sire, that he may not 
I discover the substitution.” 

! Ah ! ” said Athos, we have lost a great deal of time.” 

I Then give the command,” said the King, and let us go.” 

I Will you give it. Sire ? ” demanded Athos. 

“No, I name you my lieutenant-general,” replied the King. 

Listen, then. Lord de Winter,” said Athos. “ E-etire a 
little, ! beseech you. Sire ; what we are going to say does not 
concern your Majesty.” 

The King, with a smile, stepped a few paces back. 

“ This is what I propose,” continued Athos : “ we will 
divide your regiment into two squadrons ; put yourself at the 
head of one, and we, with his Majesty, will lead the other. 
Shou ld nothing arise to obstruct our passage, we will charge 
in one body, force the enemy’s line, and throw ourselves into 
the Tyne, which we must pass, either by a ford or by swim- 
ming. But if, on the contrary, we meet with any obstruction, 
you and your men must sacrifice yourselves, even to the last 
man, while we and the King continue our course. Having 
once reached the banks of the river, if your squadron does its 
duty we shall force our way through, even should the enemy 
be drawn up three ranks deep.” 

“ To horse ! ” said De Winter. 

. “ To horse ! ” repeated Athos ; “ everything is arranged.” 

' Then, gentlemen,” said the King, “ forward ! and let our 
rai i-ving cry be that of France : ^ Mont joie and Saint Denis ! ’ 
fo»- the battle-cry of England is now in the mouths of traitors.” 
'ithey mounted their horses, the King taking De Winter’s 


506 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


and De Winter the King’s. Then De Winter put himself 
at the head of the first squadron, and the King, with Athos 
on his right and Aramis on his left, at the head of the 
second. 

The whole Scottish army observed these preparations with 
the immobility and silence of shame. 

Some chieftains were seen to leave the ranks and break 
their swords. 

“Ah!” cried the King, “that is some comfort to me — -i 
they are not all traitors ! ” 

At this moment Lord de Winter’s voice was heard : 

“ Forward ! ” he cried. 

The first squadron moved on; the second followed it and 
descended from the elevated ground. A regiment of cuiras- 
siers, of about equal strength, now made its appearance from, 
behind the hill and came full speed to meet them. 

The King pointed out to Athos and Aramis what was going on. . 

“ Sire,” said Athos, “ the case is provided for ; and if De 
Winter’s men do their duty, that manœuvre will save instead 
of destroying us.” 

At this moment De Winter’s voice was heard above all the 
surrounding tumult, exclaiming : 

“ Draw sabres ! ” 

At this command every sword instantly leapt from its scab- 
bard, each like a flash of lightning. 

“ Come, gentlemen,” cried the King, in his turn excited by 
the sound and sight, — “ come, gentlemen, draw your sabres ! 

But this command, and the example set by the King, was 
obeyed by Athos and Aramis alone. 

“We are betrayed,” said the King, in a low voice. 

“Wait a moment,” said Athos; “perhaps they did not 
recognise your Majesty’s voice, and are waiting for the or- 
ders of their own commander.” 

“ Did they not hear their colonel’s ? But see ! see ! ” ex- 
claimed the King, stopping his horse with a sudden jerk that 
brought him on his haunches, and seizing hold of the bridle 
of Athos’s horse. 

“ Ah ! cowards, wretches, traitors ! ” cried De Winter ; they 
could hear his voice, while his men, quitting their ranks, scat- 
tered over the plain. 

About a score of men formed themselves into a group 
around him^ and awaited the charge of Cromwell’s cuirassiers» 


THE AVENGER. 


50T 


i Come, let iis die with them ! ” exclaimed the King, 

j Come, let us die ! ’’ responded Athos and Aramis. 

Rally round me, ye faithful hearts ! ’’ cried De Winter. 

! This cry reached the two friends, who went olf at a gallop. 

I ‘^No quarter,” cried a voice in French, in answer to De 

I Winter’s, — a voice that made them start. 

!', As for De Winter, at the sound of that voice he became 
j pale and almost petrified. 

It was the voice of a cavalier, who, mounted on a shperb 
black horse, charged at the head of an English regiment, 

[ which, in his ardour, he preceded by ten paces. 

I t It is he ! ” murmured De Winter, with his eyes fixed and 

letting his sword drop by his side. 

The King ! The King ! ” shouted many voices, deceived by 
De Winter’s blue ribbon and dun horse ; take him alive ! ” 
^^No, it is not the King ! ” exclaimed the cavalier ; “ do not 
be deceived. You are not the King, are you. Lord de Win- 
j ter ? Are you not my uncle?” 

And at the same moment Mordaunt — for it was he — 
j pointed a pistol at De Winter. The shot was fired, the ball 
! passed through the breast of the aged gentleman, who made 
j a single bound in his saddle and then fell back into the arms 
of Athos, murmuring : 

The avenger ! ” 

Remember my mother ! ” shouted Mordaunt as he passed, 
carried forward by the impetuous fury of his horse. 

You wretch ! ” cried Aramis, firing at him point-blank as 
he galloped by ; but the priming only flashed in the jian. 

An entire regiment now attacked the few men who had. 
kept their ground, and the two Frenchmen were surrounded 
and hard pressed. Athos, being assured that De Winter was 
de^d, let fall the body, and drawing his sword : 

Come, Aramis,” said he, for the honour of France ! ” 
And the two Englishmen who happened to be nearest to them 
fell mortally wounded. 

At the same moment a terrible clamour was heard, and 
thirty swords gleamed around their heads. 

Suddenly a man rushed from the midst of the English 
' ranks, overthrowing everything in his way, and leaping upon 
Athos he encircled him in his brawny arms, at the same time 
snatching his sword from his hand, and whispering in his ear, 
Be silent ! — surrender ! To yield to me is not to yield,” 


508 


TWENTY YEARS AETER. 


i 

A giant had also seized Aramis by the wrists ; he vainly 
struggled to free himself from this formidable grip. 

Surrender ! ” he said, looking earnestly at him. 

Aramis raised his head. Athos turned. 

^^D’Art’’ — Athos was crying out, when the Gascon closed ;j 
his mouth with his hand. 

I surrender,’’ said Aramis, delivering up his sword to 
Porthos. 

Fire ! fire ! ” exclaimed Mordaunt, returning to the group 
in which were the two friends. 

« Why should we fire ? ” said the colonel ; all have sur- 
rendered.” ; 

It is Milady’s son ! ” said Athos to D’Artagnan. 

I recognised him.” ] 

It is the monk ! ” said Porthos to Aramis. 

I know it.” 

At the same time the ranks began to open. D’Artagnan , 
held the bridle of Athos’s horse, and Porthos that of Aramis’s. 
Each endeavoured to withdraw his prisoner from the field of | 
battle. i 

This movement disclosed the spot where De Winter had i 
fallen. With the instinct of hatred, Mordaunt had discovered ^ 
it, and, stooping down from his horse, was regarding it with : 
a hideous smile. ' 

Athos, calm as he was, put his hand to his hostlers, still i 
supplied with pistols. j 

What are you going to do ? ” asked D’Artagnan. ^ 

Let me kill him !” . ■ 

Not even a gesture to betray that you know him, or we 
are all four lost.” 

Then turning to the young man : 

A good capture,” he cried out — a good capture, frie^id 
Mordaunt. We have each made one, — M. du Vallon and 
myself, — nothing less than Knights of the Garter.” 

But,” said Mordaunt, looking at Athos and Aramis with 
his bloodshot eyes, — but these are Frenchmen, I believe.” 

Faith, I know nothing about that. Are you a Frenchman, ' 
sir ? ” he said to Athos. 

I am, sir,” he gravely replied. * 

Then, my dear sir, you are prisoner to a fellow-countryman.” ; 

But the King ? ” said Athos, with great anguish ; ‘‘ how 
about the King ? ” 


THE AVENGER. 


609 


D’Artagnan squeezed his prisoner's hand, and said, The 
King ? — we have him.’^ 

Yes,’^ said Aramis, by infamous treachery.’’ 

Porthos almost crushed his friend’s hand, and said to him 
with a smile : 

Ah, sir, war is carried on as much by address as by force. 
Look there ! ” 

In fact, the squadron that ought to have protected Charles’s 
retreat was now seen advancing toward an English regiment, 
surrounding the King, who was walking alone, in a large open 
space. The Prince was apparently calm ; but what he must 
have suffered to appear calm was plainly perceptible. The 
perspiration was dropping from his forehead, and he was con- 
tinually wiping his temples and his lips with a handkerchief, 
which, every time that it was withdrawn from his mouth, was 
tinged with blood. 

“ There, look at Nebuchadnezzar ! ” exclaimed one of Crom- 
well’s soldiers, an old Puritan, whose eyes flashed on behold- 
ing him whom they called the tyrant. 

Whom do you call Nebuchadnezzar ? ” said Mordaunt, 
with a frightful smile. No, it is King Charles, — the good 
King Charles, — who robs his subjects that he may enjoy their 
property ! ” 

Charles turned his eyes toward the insolent personage who 
thus spoke, but he did not know him. Ahd yet the calm and 
resigned majesty of that face made Mordaunt hang his head. 

“ Gentlemen,” said the King, seeing that Athos and Aramis 
were prisoners, the day has been unfavourable ; but it is not 
your fault, thank God ! Where is my old friend. De Winter ? ” 

The two gentlemen turned away their heads and remained 
silent. 

Ask, where is Strafford ? ” said Mordaunt’s harsh voice. 

Charles started. The demon had struck home : Strafford 
was his perpetual remorse, the shadow of his days, the phan- 
tom of his nights. 

The King looked around him, and saw a dead body lying 
at his feet. It was De Winter’s. 

Charles did not utter a cry, did not shed a tear ; he only 
became more deadly pale. Placing one knee on the ground, 
he raised De Winter’s head, pressed his lips to his brow, and 
taking the ribbon of the Holy Ghost from his neck, placed it 
solemnly on his own breast. 


610 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


‘‘ So De Winter is slain ? ” demanded D’Artagnan, fixing 
his eyes on the dead body. 

Yes/’ said Athos, and by his nephew ! ” 

Well, there is the first of us gone,” muttered D’Artagnan. 

May he sleep in peace, for he was a brave man ! ” 

“ Charles Stuart,” said the English colonel, advancing 
toward the King, who had just resumed the insignia of roy- 
alty, do you yield yourself my prisoner ? ” 

‘‘ Colonel Tomlinson,” answered Charles, the King does 
not surrender ; the man yields to force — that is all.” 

Your sword ! ” 

The King drew his sword and broke it on his knee. 

At this moment a horse without a rider, and dripping with 
foam, with eyes of fire and inflated nostrils, galloped up, and 
recognising his master, stopped close to him, neighing with 
joy ; it was Arthus. 

The King smiled, patted him, and lightly vaulted into the 
saddle. 

Now, gentlemen,” said he, take me where you please.” 

Then, turning quickly, “Wait,” said he; “I fancy that I 
saw De Winter move. Should he yet live, I charge you, by 
all that you hold most sacred, not to abandon that noble 
gentleman.” 

“Oh, make yourself easy. King Charles,” said Mordaunt; 
“ the ball pierced his heart ! ” 

“ Do not breathe a syllable, do not make a single motion, do 
not hazard a look toward me or Porthos,” said D’Artagnan to 
Athos and Araniis ; “for Milady is not dead — her soul still 
lives in that demon’s body.” 

The detachment proceeded toward the town, carrying with 
them the royal captive ; but when they had traversed half the 
distence one of CroihWell’s aides-de-camp brought an order to 
Colonel Tomlinsbn to conduct the King to Holdenby Castle. 

At the same time couriers were despatched in all directions, 
to announce to England, and to Europe, that Charles Stuart 
was Oliver Cromwell’s prisoner. 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


511 


OHAPTEE, LIX. 

OLIVER CROMWELL. 

“ Are you not going to visit the General ? ’’ said Mordaunt to 
D’ Artagnan and Porthos ; you know that he commanded you 
to do so after the action.” 

“We must first dispose of our prisoners in a safe place,” 
replied D’ Artagnan. “ Do you know that these gentlemen are 
worth fifteen hundred pistoles each ? ” 

“ Oh, make yourself easy,” said Mordaunt, looking at them 
I and vainly striving to discard ferocity ; my troops will guard 
j, them well. I will be responsible to you for them.” 
j “ I shall guard them better myself,” answered D’Artagnan. 
“ Besides, what do we require ? Merely a good room with 
sentinels ; or their mere parole that they will not endeavour to 
escape. I will go and arrange all this ; and then we shall 
have the honour of presenting ourselves before the General, 

! and learn his commands to his Eminence.” 

“ So you think of shortly returning ? ” demanded Mordaunt. 

“ Our mission is completed, and nothing will keep us longer 
in England except the will of the great man to whom we were 
sent.” 

The young man bit his lips ; and whispering to the sergeant 
he said : “ You will follow these men, you will not lose sight 
of them, and when you know where they are lodged you 
will come and wait for me at the gate of the town.” 

! The sergeant signified his readiness to obey. 

^ Then instead of following the body of the prisoners, whom 
they were taking into the town, Mordaunt went toward the 
I little hill from which Cromwell had overlooked the battle, 
and where he had caused his tent to be pitched, 
j Cromwell had forbidden any one to be admitted to his pres- 
ence ; but the sentinel, who knew Mordaunt as one of his 
GeneraPs most intimate confidants, thought that the prohibition 
did not refer to the young man. 

So Mordaunt lifted the flap of the tent, and saw Cromwell 
seated at a table, with his face buried in his hands and his 
back turned toward him. 

1 Whether he heard MordaunPs entrance or not, Cromwell 
i did not turn round. 


612 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


\ 

% 

Mordaunb remained standing in the doorway. 

After a little, however, Cromwell raised his gloomy brow, 
and, as if he had instinctively felt that some one was there, he 
slowly turned his head. ; 

I said that I wished to be alone ! ’’ he exclaimed, on seeing ' 
the young man. 

That prohibition was not supposed to refer to me, sir,” 
said Mordaunt. Nevertheless, if you command, I am ready 
to go.” 

Ah ! is it you, Mordaunt ? ” said Cromwell, clearing away 
as if by an effort of his will the veil that covered his eyes ; , 
well, since it is you, you -may remain.” ■ 

I offer you my congratulations ! ” < 

Your congratulations ! And for what ?” i 

‘‘ For the capture of Charles Stuart. You are now the mas- a 
ter of England.” j 

I was much more so two hours ago,” said Cromwell. j 

How is that. General ?” 1 

England needed me — to capture the tyrant ; now the ty- j 
rant is captured. Have you seen him ? ” j 

Yes, sir,” replied Mordaunt. | 

And how did he comport himself ? ” 

Mordaunt hesitated ; but the truth appeared to force itself i 
from his lips : 

Calm and dignified.” 

What did he say ? ” j 

A few farewell words to his friends.” ; 

To his friends ! ” murmured Cromwell ; he has friends, ' 
then?” i 

Then aloud : ‘c 

“ Did he defend himself ? ” ’ 

No, sir, he was abandoned by all, except three or four 
men ; so he had no means of resistance.” ; 

To whom did he give up his sword ? ” ^ 

“ He did not give it up — he broke it.” ) 

“ He did well. But he would have done even better, if, in- ? 
stead of breaking it, he had used it with greater skill.” > ■ 

There was a moment’s silence. 

The colonel of the regiment that served as escort to the 
King, to Charles, was slain, I believe ? ” said Cromwell, fixing , 
his eye earnestly on Mordaunt. 

‘‘ Yes, sir.” 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


513 


By whom ? ” inquired Cromwell. 

“ By me.’’ 

“ What was his name ? ” 

Lord de Winter.” 

Your uncle ? ” exclaimed Cromwell. 

My uncle ! ” replied Mordaunt ; traitors to England do 
not belong to my family.” 

Cromwell remained thoughtful for an instant, looking on 
the young man. Then, with that deep melancholy which 
Shakespeare paints so well : 

Ï Mordaunt,” said he, you are a terrible servitor.” 

I When the Lord commands,” replied Mordaunt, there is 
no disputing His orders. Abraham raised the knife against 
l| Isaac, and Isaac was his son.” 

j “ Yes,” said Cromwell, but the Lord did not allow the 
ii sacrifice to be completed.” 

i| ‘‘ I looked around me,” rejoined Mordaunt, and I saw 
I neither goat nor kid caught in the thickets of the plain.” 

!j Cromwell bowed his head. 

You are strong amongst the strong, Mordaunt,” said he. 

i ' And how did the Frenchmen behave themselves ? ” 

Like brave men, sir,” replied Mordaunt. 

“ Yes, yes,” said Cromwell, the French fight well, and I am 
I not mistaken. I saw, through my telescope, that they were in 
I the foremost rank.” 

They were there,” said Mordaunt. 

I Behind you, however,” said Cromwell. 

J “ It was not their fault, but that of their horses.” 

; j There was again a moment’s silence. 

! And the Scots ? ” said Cromwell. 

They kept their word, and did not move a step.” 
j “ The wretches ! ” murmured Cromwell. 

■ Their officers demand an interview.” 

I have no leisure. Have they been paid ? ” 

Yes ; this night.” 

Let them go then — let them return to their mountains — 
let them there hide their shame, if their mountains are lofty 
enough for that ! I have nothing more to do with them, nor 
they with me ! Now go, Mordaunt.” 

Before I go,” said Mordaunt, “ I have one or two questions 
ito ask you, sir, and a request to make of you, my master.” 

: «Of me?” 


1 ' 


514 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Mordaunt bowed. 

I come to you — my hero, my protector, my father — and 
I say, ^ Master, are you satisfied with me ? ’ ” 

Cromwell looked at him with astonishment. 

The young man remained unmoved. 

‘‘ Yes,’’ said Cromwell. Since I have known you, you have 
done, not only your duty, but even more than your duty : you 
have been a faithful friend, a skilful negotiator, and a good 
soldier.” 

Do you remember, sir, that I was the first person who 
suggested the idea of treating with the Scots to abandon their 
King ? ” 

Yes, the thought originated with you, it is true. I had 
not yet carried my scorn for men so far.” 

Was I a successful ambassador in France ? ” 

“Yes ; and you obtained what I wanted from Mazarin.” 

“ Have I always striven earnestly for your glory and your 
interest ? ” 

“ Too ardently, perhaps ; that is what I reproached you for 
just now. But what is your object in all these questions ? ” 

“ It is, my Lord, that the moment is now come when one 
word from you can recompense me for all these services.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Cromwell, with a slight movement of contempt ; 
“ it is true, I forgot that every service deserves its reward — 
that you have served me, and that you have not been recom- 
pensed.” 

“ Sir, T can be so instantly, and far beyond my expectations.” 

“ How is that ? ” 

“ I have the reward within my reach, and almost grasp 
it.” 

“ And what is this reward ? ” asked Cromwell. “ Has gold 
been offered to you ? Do you demand rank ? Do you desire 
a command ? ” 

“ Sir, will you grant my request ? ” 

“ Let me first hear what it is.” 

“ Sir, when you have said to me, ^ Go and execute an order,’ 
have I ever inquired, ^ What is that order ? ’ ” 

“ But should your request be impossible to grant ? ” 

. “ Whenever you desired anything to be done, and charged 
me with the execution of it, have I ever answered, ‘ It is 
impossible ’ ? ” 

“ But a demand preceded by so much preparation” — - 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


615 


Ah ! rest easy, sir,” said Mordaunt, with an expression of 
simplicity ; it will not ruin you.” 

^‘Well, then,” said Cromwell, I promise to grant your 
request, in so far as it lies in my power. Ask ! ” 

“ Sir,” said Mordaunt, ‘‘ two prisoners were taken this morn- 
ing. I ask them of you.” 

. a Why, have they offered a considerable ransom ? ” inquired 
Cromwell. 

On the contrary, I believe that they are poor.” 

They are friends of yours, then ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, they are friends of mine,” cried Mordaunt, dear 
friends of mine, and I would give my life for theirs.” 

“ Well,” said Cromwell, resuming, with a certain emotion of 
pleasure, a better opinion of the young man, — “ well, Mor- 
daunt, I give them to you. I do not even wish to know who 
they are. Do what you like with them.” 

Thank you, sir,” exclaimed Mordaunt — “ thank you ! My 
life is henceforth yours, and even in losing it, I should still 
be your debtor. Thank you ! You have just rewarded me 
munificently for my services ! ” 

And throwing himself on his knees before Cromwell, in 
spite of the efforts of the Puritan General, who did not wish, 
or pretended not to wish, to receive this almost regal homage, 
he took his hand and kissed it. 

‘‘ What ! ” said Cromwell, stopping him as he rose up, — 
^‘no other recompense? No gold? No rank ? ” 

‘‘You have given me all you could give me, my Lord, and 
from this day I consider you discharged from all further obli- 
gation.” 

And Mordaunt rushed out of the tent with a joy that over- 
flowed from his heart and his eyes. 

Cromwell looked after him. 

“ He slew his uncle !” he murmured. 

“ Alas ! what followers are mine ! Perhaps this man, who 
claims nothing from me, or appears to do so, may have 
demanded more of me, in the sight of God, than those who 
ask me for gold of the provinces and the bread of the poor. 
No one serves me for nothing. Charles, who is my prisoner, 
has perhaps yet some friends, and I have not one ! ” 

And with a deep sigh he resumed his reverie, which had 
been interrupted by Mordaunt. 


516 


TW E JS T Y YEARS AFTER, 


CHAPTER LX. 

THE GENTLEMEN. 

While Mordaunt was on his way to Cromwell’s tent, D’Ar- 
tagnan and Portlios were leading their prisoners to the house 
that had been assigned them for a lodging at Newcastle. 

The order given by Mordaunt to the sergeant had not 
escaped the Gascon’s observation. So he had by a quick look 
recommended the strictest caution to Athos and Aramis. 
They had, consequently, walked in silence by the side of their 
conquerors ; but this was not hard to do, as each was suf- 
ficiently occupied with his own- thoughts. 

If ever a man was astonished it was Mousqueton, when as he 
stood on the doorstep he beheld the four friends advancing, 
followed by the sergeant and about a dozen men. He rubbed 
his eyes, not being able to persuade himself that he really saw 
Athos and Aramis, but at last he was compelled to believe the 
evidence of his eyes. So he was just on the point of breaking 
out into exclamations, when Porthos imposed silence on him 
by one of those glances that cannot be misunderstood. 

Mousqueton remained standing by the door, awaiting the 
explanation of such a strange circumstance, and what more than 
all perplexed him was that the four friends appeared no longer 
to know one another. 

The house to which D’Artagnan and Porthos conducted 
Athos and Aramis was that which they had inhabited the even- 
ing before, and which had been assigned to them by Crom- 
well. It was the corner house of the street, with a garden and 
stables on the adjoining street. 

The windows of the ground fioor, as was then often the case 
in small provincial towns, were grated, so that they much 
resembled those of a prison. 

The two friends, having made their prisoners enter, remained 
at the door themselves, and Mousqueton conducted the four 
horses to the stables. 

if Why do not we go in with them ? ” inquired Porthos. 

Because, first, we must find out what this sergeant and his 
eight or ten men want with us.” 

The sergeant and his men were establishing themselves in 


THE GENTLEMEN. 


517 


the garden. D’Artagnan inquired what they wanted and why 
they stationed themselves there. 

We have received orders/’ replied the sergeant, “ to assist 
you in guarding your prisoners.” 

There was nothing objectionable in this. It was, in fact, a 
delicate attention, for which they had every reason to appear 
grateful. D’Artagnan thanked the sergeant, and gave him a 
crown to drink Cromwell’s health. 

The sergeant informed him that the Puritans did not drink ; 
but he put the money into his pocket. 

Ah ! ” said Porthos, what a frightful day, my dear D’Ar- 
tagnan.” 

What are you saying, Porthos ! Do you call that a fright- 
ful day in which we have found our friends again ? ” 

Yes, but under what circumstances ! ” 

True, the conjuncture is embarrassing,” said D’Artagnan. 

But never mind; let us go to them and endeavour to obtain 
a distinct view of our position.” 

It is sadly perplexed,” said Porthos ; and I now under- 
stand why Aramis recommended me to strangle this horrible 
Mordaunt.” 

Silence, then ! ” said D’Artagnan ; do not utter that 
name.” 

But,” said Porthos, I am talking French, and these are ' 
Englishmen.” 

D’Artagnan gazed at Porthos with that expression of aston- 
ishment which a rational man cannot withhold from eccentric- 
ities of every kind. 

Then, as Porthos kept looking at him without in the slight- 
est degree comprehending the cause of his surprise, D’Artagnan 
gave him a push, saying, Let us go in ! ” 

Porthos entered first ; D’Artagnan followed him ; and hav- 
ing carefully closed the door, he folded his friends successively 
in his arms. 

Athos was quite overpowered with melancholy ; Aramis 
looked from Porthos to D’Artagnan without saying a word, 
but his looks were so expressive that D’Artagnan understood 
them. 

You wish to know how it happens that we are here ? Ah ! 
mon Dieu! it is easy enough to guess. Mazarin sent us with a 
letter to Oliver Cromwell.” 

But how is it that we find you by Mordaunt’s side ? ” said 


518 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Athos ; that Mordaunt whom I told you to distrust, D’Arta- 
gnan.’’ 

‘‘ And whom I advised you to choke, Porthos,’’ added Aramis. 

“ Still Mazarin. Cromwell sent him to Mazarin — Mazarin 
sent us to Cromwell. There is a fatality in all this ! ’’ 

“ Yes, you are right, D’Artagnan, — a fatality which dissevers 
and destroys us, so that, my dear Aramis, let us say no more 
about it, but prepare to submit to our lot.’’ 

Sang-Diou ! let us, on the contrary, say a great deal about 
it,” said D’Artagnan ; for it has been agreed upon, once for 
all, that we are forever united, although we may support 
opposite causes.” 

“ Oh, yes, opposite indeed ! ” said Athos, smiling. And 
here I ask you what cause is it that you are supporting ! Ah, 
D’Artagnan ! see on what service that wretch Mazarin employs 
you. Do you know the crime of which you have this day been 
guilty ? Of the capture of the King, of his ignominy, of his 
death ! ” 

Oho ! ” exclaimed Porthos, “ do you think so ? ” 

‘‘You exaggerate, Athos,” replied D’Artagnan, “ we have 
not yet come to that.” 

“ Ah, mon Dieu ! but we are approaching it. Why do they 
arrest a king ? When they wish to respect him as a master, 
they do not purchase him like a slave. Do you believe that 
Cromwell has paid two hundred thousand pounds for him to 
replace him on his throne ? Priends, rest assured that they 
will murder him, and that is the least crime they can commit. 
It is better to cut off a king’s head than to strike him.” 

“ I do not contradict you, and, after all, it may be possible,” 
said D’Artagnan. “ But what is all this to us ? I am here 
because I am a soldier, because I serve my masters ; that is to 
say, those from whom I receive my pay. I took an oath of 
obedience, and I obey ; but you, who have taken no oaths, why 
are you here, and what cause do you support ? ” 

“ The most sacred cause in the world,” said Athos ; “ that of 
misfortune, of royalty, of religion. A friend, a wife, a daughter, 
did us the honour to call us to their aid. We havg served them 
to the utmost of our feeble means, and God^^^Will take the 
will for the deed. You may think differently, D’Artagnan ; you 
may see things under a different aspect, my friend. I do not 
attempt to influence you, but yet I blame you.” 

“ Oho ! ” said D’Artagnan ; “ and, after all, what does it 


THE GENTLEMEN. 


519 


signify to me that M. Cromwell, who is an Englishman, has 
rebelled against his King, who is a Scotsman ? I am a French- 
man, and these things do not affect me ; why, then, should you 
make me responsible for them ? 

Why, indeed ! ’’ said Porthos. 

Because all gentlemen are brothers — because you are a 
gentleman — because the kings of all countries are the first of 
gentlemen — because the common people, blind, ungrateful, 
and besotted, always take a pleasure in degrading what is 
superior to them. And you, D’Arfcagnan, a man of the old 
noblesse, a man of an ancient name, a splendid swordsman, 
assist in delivering up a king to hucksters of beer, to tailors 
and carters. Ah, D’Artagnan ! as a soldier, perhaps you have 
done your duty ; but as a gentleman, you are to blame, and I 
tell you so.’^ 

D’Artagnan, who was biting a flower-stalk, did not answer ; 
but he felt uncomfortable, for when he turned his face away 
from Athos’s eyes he met Aramis’s. 

And you, Porthos,” continued the Count, as if he pitied 
D’Artagnan’s confusion, “ you, the bravest heart, the best 
friend, the most accomplished soldier that I know — you, whom 
your soul made worthy of being born on the steps of a throne, 
and who, sooner or later, will be rewarded by an intelligent 
sovereign — you, my dear Porthos — you, a gentleman by your 
manners, your tastes, and your courage — you are as blame- 
worthy as D’Artagnan.” 

Porthos coloured, but more with pleasure than confusion, 
and yet he hung down his head as if he had been humbled. 

Yes, yes, I believe that you are right, my dear Count.” 

Athos rose up. 

Come,” said he, approaching D’Artagnan and taking his 
hand, do not pout, my dear son, for all that I have said to 
you has been uttered, if not with the voice, at any rate with 
the heart, of a father. It would, believe me, have been easier 
for me to have thanked you for having saved my life, and not 
to have given you one word of my sentiments.” 

^‘ Without doubt, Athos, without doubt,” replied D’Artagnan, 
pressing his htnd. But then you have such devilish fine 
sentiments, and few can share them. Who could ever imagine 
that any reasonable man would quit his home, his country, his 
ward, — a splendid young fellow, for we saw him at the camp, 
— to run, after what ? Why, to the assistance of a rotten and 


520 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


worm-eaten royalty, that, some fine morning, will crumble to 
pieces like an old barrack. Your sentiments are doubtless 
very fine — so fine that they are superhuman.’^ 

“ Whatever they may be, D’Artagnan,” said Athos (without 
falling into the trap that his friend, with his true Gascon 
address, had laid for him, by touching on his affection for 
Kaoul) — whatever they may be, you know at heart that 
they are right. But I am wrong to argue with my master. 
D’Artagnan, I am your prisoner ; treat me as such.” 

“ Ah, pardieu ! ” cried D’Artagnan, you know very well 
that you will not long be my prisoner.” 

No,” said Aramis, ^^for they will treat us as they did those 
taken at Philiphaugh.” 

And how did they treat them ? ” inquired D’Artagnan. 

Why,” said Aramis, “ they hanged half and shot half.” 

Well, then,” said D’Artagnan, I promise you that while a 
drop of blood remains in my veins, you shall be neither hanged 
nor shot. Sang-Diou ! let them come. Besides, do you see 
that door, Athos ? ” 

« Well ? ” 

“ Well, you may pass through that door whenever you please ; 
for, from this moment, you and Aramis are free as air.” 

There do I truly recognise you, my brave D’Artagnan,” 
said Athos ; “ but we are no longer in your power. That door 
is guarded, D’Artagnan. You know it.” 

^‘Well, then, you will force it,” said Porthos. “What is 
it ? Ten men, more or less.” 

“ That would be nothing for four of us,” said Athos ; “ but 
it is too much for two of us. No, divided as we now are, we 
must perish. Mark the fatal example: on the Vendomois 
road, D’Artagnan, you so brave, Porthos, you so valiant and 
so powerful, were beaten. To-day Aramis and myself were 
also beaten ; it was our turn. Now, that never happened to us 
when we four were united. Let us die, then, as De Winter 
died. I declare that I will never consent to fly, unless all 
four go together.” 

“ Impossible ! ” said D’Artagnan ; “ we are under Mazarin’s 
command.” 

“ I know it, and do not further press you. My arguments 
have been of no avail ; and doubtless they were bad, since they 
have had no effect on minds as just as yours.” 

“ Besides, even had they succeeded,” said Aramis, “ it is 


THE GENTLEMEN, 


521 


miicli better not to compromise two such excellent friends as 
D’Artagnan and Porthos. Rely upon it, gentlemen, we shall 
not disgrace you by our deaths. I for one shall feel quite 
proud in confronting death with you, Athos, by bullet or even 
by the hangman’s rope ; for never have you appeared to me 
so truly great as on this day.” 

D’Artagnan said nothing ; but, after having chewed his 
flower-stalk, he began to gnaw his fingers. 

“ You fancy, then, that they are going to kill you ?” he said 
at length. And why ? Who has any interest in your death ? 
Besides, you are our prisoners.” 

Credulous, triply credulous ! ” said Aramis. Can it be 
you do not know Mordaunt? I have exchanged but one 
glance with him, and by that glance alone I saw that we were 
doomed.” 

The fact is, I am monstrous sorry that I did not choke 
him, as you told me, Aramis,” said Porthos. 

Ah ! despise that Mordaunt ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan. 

Cap de Dlou ! if he comes too near me, I will crush him — 
the insect ! Do not fly, then ; it is perfectly unnecessary ; 
for I swear that you are as safe here as you were twenty years 
ago — you, Athos, in the Rue Pérou, and you, Aramis, in the 
Rue de Vaugirard.” 

There,” said Athos, pointing to one of the grated windows 
that gave light to the apartment, you will soon know what 
you have to do, for he is hastening here.” 

Who ? ” 

Mordaunt.” 

In fact, on looking in the direction indicated by Athos, 
D’Artagnan saw a horseman approaching at a gallop. 

It was Mordaunt. 

D’Artagnan rushed out of the room. 

Porthos was about to follow him. 

Remain,” said D’Artagnan, and do not come out until I 
drum on the door.” 


522 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


CHAPTER LXI. 

JESUS SEIGNEUR. 

When Mordaunt came opposite the house, he saw D’Arta- 
gnan at the door and the armed soldiers lying scattered about 
on the grass. 

Hullo ! ’’ he cried, in a voice hoarse from the haste with 
which he had ridden, are the prisoners still here ? ’’ 

“ Yes, sir,’’ said the sergeant, rising quickly, as well as his 
men, who all hastily touched their hats. 

Good ; four men, immediately, to lead them to my quar- 
ters.” 

Pour men stepped forward. 

“ Beg pardon,” said D’Artagnan, in that bantering tone 
which our readers must have often observed in him since they 
became acquainted with him. What is it, if you please ? ” 

Sir,” said Mordaunt, I was commanding four men to 
take the prisoners whom we captured this morning, and to 
conduct them to my quarters.” 

And why so ? ” demanded D’Artagnan. Pardon my cu- 
riosity ; but you can understand that I wish to be informed.” 

“ Because the prisoners now belong to me,” replied Mordaunt 
haughtily ; and I shall dispose of them according to my own 
fancy.” 

Pardon me, pardon me, my young sir,” said D’Artagnan ; 
it seems to me that you are making a slight mistake. It is 
customary for prisoners to belong to those who have taken 
them— not to those who saw them taken. You might have 
taken Lord de Winter, who was your uncle, as I have been 
told, but you preferred killing him ; that is all very well. M. 
du Vallon and myself might have killed these two gentlemen ; 
but we preferred taking them. Every one to his own taste.” 

Mordaunt’s lips turned pale. 

D’Artagnan saw that matters would soon get worse, and 
began to drum the Guard’s March on the door. 

At the first measure Porthos came out and stood on the 
other side of the door, his feet touching the threshold and his 
head the top. 

This manoeuvre did not escape Mordaunt’s observation. 

Sir/’ said he, with a warmth that began to get the better 


523 


jC^SaS 

of liim, repvustance will be useless. These prisoners have 
j ■ ‘ : been . given tv> me by the Ooinmander-in-chief, my illus- 
t’ioiis ‘ j-atron, Oliver Cromwell.” 

'‘'I’hese words came upon D’Artagnan like a thunderbolt. 
T'he blood mounted to his temples, a mist passed before his 
eyes; he thoroughly comprehended the young man’s savage 
hope, and his hand descended, as it were instinctively, to his 
sword hilt. 

Porthos watched D’Artagnan’s every motion, that he might 
regulate his own movements accordingly. 

Porthos’ s looks disturbed D’Artagnan more than they 
encouraged him, and he began to reproach himself for having 
called forth the brute force of Porthos in an affair that seemed 
to him most properly managed by stratagem. 

“ Violence,” said he to himself, ‘‘ would ruin us all. D’Arta- 
gnan, my friend, prove to this young viper that you are not 
only stronger, but also keener, than he is.” 

‘‘ Ah ! ” said he, making a low bow, “ why did you not tell 
me that at first, M. Mordaunt ? What ! You come from Gen- 
eral Cromwell, the most illustrious captain of the age ? ” 

“ I have but just left him,, sir,” said Mordaunt, dismounting 
and giving his horse to one of the soldiers to hold ; I have 
left him this very moment.” 

“ Why did you not say so at once, my dear sir ? ’? continued 
D’Artagnan. ‘^All England belongs to M. Cromwell; and, 
since you come to ask my prisoners in his name, I bow to his 
decision. They are yours, sir, — take them ! ” 

Mordaunt came forward, radiant with joy; and Porthos, 
utterly annihilated, and looking at D’Artagnan with profound 
stupefaction, was opening his mouth to speak. 

D’Artagnan trod on his foot ; then he understood that his 
friend was only playing off some artifice. 

Mordaunt set foot on the threshold, and, with his hat in hand, 
was just going to pass between the two friends, beckoning to 
his four men to follow him. 

« But pardon me, sir,” said D’Artagnan, with the sweetest 
smile and laying his hand on the young man’s shoulder ; “ if the 
illustrious General Oliver Cromwell has disposed of our pris- 
oners in your favour, he has doubtless made you this gift in 
writing.” 

Mordaunt stopped short. 

He has doubtless furnished you with a letter for me — 


524 


TWENTY YEARS Aj'VTER. 


the least scrap of paper, in fact — that may ceit.’tify that yoUs 
come in his name. Will yon be so kind as to c' on fide thia- 
letter to me, that I may at least have some excuse-, for tiiia 
abandonment of my fellow countrymen. Otherwise, yon see, 
although I am quite certain that General Cromwell cqn^ Avish ^ 
them no harm, it might have a bad appearance.” 

Mordaunt drew back, and feeling the blow, he launched, a ter- 
rible look at D’Artagnan ; but he responded by the most , ibl:^ 
and friendly expression that ever adorned a countenanctf^^,f,. 

“ AVhen I make an assertion, sir,” said Mordaunt, 
insult me by doubting it ? ” 9 ,^ 

T ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan ; I doubt what ycw,i- tay ? i 
God forbid, my dear Monsieur Mordaunt! On the contrary, 1 
consider you a worthy and accomplished gentleman, according - 
to all appearance; and besides, sir, — do you Avish me to speak 
frankly ? ” continued D’Artagnan, in his frankest manner. J 
Speak, sir,” said Mordaunt. 3 

“Monsieur du Vallon, who, by the Avay, is rich, — he has 8 
forty thousand livres income, and, consequently, does not think ft 
of money ; I do not speak, therefore, for him, but for myself.” i 

“Well, sir?” ^ 

“Well, then, I am not rich. In Gascony it is no disgrace, 
sir. No one is rich there, and Henry IV., of glorious memory, 
who was the King of all the Gascons, as his Majesty Philip 
IV. is the King of all the Spains, had never a sou in his pocket.” 

“ Make an end, sir,” said Mordaunt ; “ I see what you mean ; 
and should it be what I conjecture that restrains you, the diffi- 
culty may be removed.” 

“ Ah ! I knew well enough,” said D’Artagnan, “ that you 
were a lad of talent. Well, then, here is the fact — here is 
where the saddle galls, as we French say : I am an officer of 
fortune — nothing more. I have nothing but what I gain by 
my SAvord ; that is to say, more blows than bank notes. Noav, 
on taking two Frenchmen this morning, who seemed to me to 
be men of high birth, being Knights of the Garter, I said to . 
myself, ‘ My fortune is made.’ I say tAvo, because, in such 
circumstances, M. du Vallon, who is rich, always yields his ' 
prisoners to me.” 

Mordaunt, completely deceived by D’Artagnan’s verbose 
good-nature, smiled like a man Avho Avell understands the 
reasons that haA^e been given to him, and replied gently: 

“ I Avill get the order signed immediately, sir, and Avith it 


JÉSUS SEIGNEUR. 


525 


two thousand pistoles; but, in the meantime, sir, allow me to 
take these men awayd’ 

]S^o,” said D’Artagnan ; “ what signifies a half hour’s 
delà} ? I am a man of methodical habits ; therefore let us do 
the thing according to rule.” 

'‘And yet, sir,” replied Mordaunt, "I could force you to 
com|ly; for I command here.” 

-, sir,” said D’Artagnan, smiling agreeably, “ it is plain 
eiio^ 1 that, though M. du Vallon and I have had the honour 
of ; /elling in your company, you do not yet know us. We are 
gen ^ iinen, we are Frenchmen ; we are able, we two alone, to 
kill yu‘u and your eight men. For God’s sake, M. Mordaunt, 
do not be obstinate ; for that will make me obstinate, too, 
and then I become ferociously stubborn ! And there is also my 
friend, who is even more headstrong than I am ; without con- 
sidering that we are ambassadors from Cardinal Mazarin, who 
represents the King of France ; consequently, we at this time 
represent both the King and the Cardinal ; so that, in our 
character as ambassadors, we are inviolable — a circumstance 
that M. Cromwell, as great a politician as he is a general, is 
just the man to understand. Ask him, therefore, for the 
written order. What can it signify to you, my dear Monsieur 
Mordaunt ? ” 

" Yes, the written order,” said Porthos, who began to com- 
prehend D’Artagnan’s intention ; " we only want that.” 

However much- Mordaunt might have wished to have re- 
course to violence, he was just the man to appreciate D’Arta- 
gnan’s reasons. Besides, his reputation imposed some restraint 
on him ; and what he had himself seen of D’Artagnan coming 
in aid of his reputation, he paused. Moreover, being com- 
pletely ignorant of the profound friendship that existed 
among the four Frenchmen, all his disquietude disappeared 
before the motive of the ransom, plausible as it was. 

So he resolved to go, not only for the order, but for the two 
thousand pistoles at which he had himself valued the two 
prisoners. 

Mordaunt therefore again mounted his horse, and, after having 
commanded the sergeant to keep a strict guard, he turned his 
horse’s head and disappeared. 

“ Good ! ” said D’Artagnan ; "a quarter of an hour to go to 
the tent, a quarter of an hour to return ; it is more than we 
require.” 


526 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Then, turning to Porthos without the slightest change of 
countenance, so that those who were watching him might 
fancy that he was merely continuing the conversation: 

Friend Porthos,” said he, looking him in the face, “ listen 
to what I say : first, not one single word to our friends of 
what you have just heard ; it is unnecessary for them to know 
the service we have done them.” 

Very well — I understand,” said Porthos. 

‘‘ Go to the stable ; you will find Mousqueton there ; saddle 
our horses, put our pistols into the holsters, and then lead them 
to the street yonder, so that we may have nothing to do but to 
mount them. The other arrangements I will look to myself.” 

Porthos did not make the slightest remark, but obeyed with 
that sublime confidence he always reposed in his friend. He 
merely said : 

‘‘ Before I start, shall I go into the room where our friends 
are ? ” 

“ No ; it is unnecessary.” 

Well, then, do me the kindness to get my purse, which I 
left on the mantelpiece.” 

“ I will see to it.” 

Porthos walked back to the stable with his usual calm and 
tranquil step, passing through the soldiers, who could not help 
admiring his lofty figure and powerful limbs. Frenchman 
though he was. At the corner of the street he met Mousque- 
ton, whom he took back with him. 

Then D’Artagnan went in, whistling an air which he had 
begun on Porthos’s departure. 

My dear Athos,” said he, I have just been reflecting on 
your arguments, and they have convinced me. I am decidedly 
sorry that I have had anything to do with this affair. You 
have said the truth — Mazarin is a low-bred fellow. I am 
therefore resolved to flee with you. No remarks, bqt hold 
yourself ready. Your swords are in that corner; do not 
forget them ; they are instruments that may prove very use- 
ful in our present circumstances. And that, by the way, 
reminds me of Porthos’s purse. Good ! there it is.” 

And D’Artagnan put the purse into his pocket; his two 
friends looked at him in amazement. 

Well, I want to know what there is so astonishing in 
this ! ” said he. I was blind, and Athos has made me see 
clearly ; that is all. Come here.” 


JÉSUS SEIGNEUR, 


527 


The two friends went up to him. 

Do you see that street ? ” said D’Artagnan. Your horses 
will be there presently ; you will pass out of the door, then 
turn to the left and leap into your saddles ; and that is all. 
Do not trouble yourselves about anything except attending to 
the signal. That signal will be when I shall cry out, ‘Jésus 
Seigneur ! ’ ” 

“ But you — your word that you will come with us, D’Arta- 
gnan ? ’’ said Athos. 

“ I swear to you, by the great God ’’ — 

“It is settled,’’ said Aramis. “When you exclaim ‘Jésus 
Seigneur ! ’ we pass out, we upset any one we find opposing us, 
we run to our horses, leap into the saddles, and spur forward. 
Is that it ? ” 

“ Exactly so.” 

“ You know, Aramis,” said Athos, “ I always told you that 
D’Artagnan was the best of us all.” 

“ Good ! ” said D’Artagnan. “ But a truce to compliments. 
I escape. Adieu ! ” 

“ And you will flee with us, will you not ? ” 

“Undoubtedly. Do not forget the signal — ‘Jésus 
Seigneur ! ’ ” 

And he went out in the same manner that he entered, 
resuming, at the very note where he had left off, the air that 
he was whistling at his entrance. 

The soldiers were amusing themselves, or sleeping. Two 
were singing in a corner the psalm, “ By the waters of Baby- 
lon,” horribly out of tune. 

D’Artagnan called the sergeant. 

“ My dear sir,” said he, “ General Cromwell has sent for me 
by M. Mordaunt ; therefore keep a good watch over the pris- 
oners, I beg of you.” 

The sergeant indicated that he did not understand French ; 
and D’Artagnan then endeavoured to explain by gestures what 
he could not make him understand by words. 

The sergeant made a sign that all was right. 

D’Artagnan proceeded to the stables, and found the five 
horses saddled, his own among the rest. 

“ Each of you take a horse by the bridle,” said he to Porthos 
and Mousqueton ; “ turn to the left, so that Athos and Aramis 
may see you from their window.” 

“ They are coming, then ? ” asked Porthos. 


528 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


In an instant.” 

‘‘You did not forget my purse ? ” 

“ No; don’t worry about that.” 

“ Good.” 

And Porthos and Mousqueton, each leading a horse, went to 
their post. 

D’Artagnan, now alone, struck a steel and ignited a piece 
of tinder about twice the size of a lentil ; he then mounted 
his horse, and went and stopped him in the midst of the sol- 
diers, opposite the door. There, patting his horse’s neck, he 
gently introduced the lighted tinder into his ear. 

It was necessary to be as good a horseman as D’Artagnan 
to run the risk of such a scheme ; for the animal no sooner 
began to feel the smart of the burning than he uttered a scream 
of pain, reared up, and gave a bound as if he had been seized 
with madness. 

The soldiers, whom he threatened with destruction, scattered 
precipitately. 

“ Help ! help ! ” cried D’Artagnan. “ Stop him ! stop him ! 
My horse has got the staggers.” 

In fact, in one moment the blood seemed to be starting 
from his eyes, and he became white with foam. 

“ Help ! help ! ” D’Artagnan continued to cry to the soldiers, 
who dared not come near him : “ Help ! Are you going to let 
me be killed ? Jésus Seigneur ! ” 

Scarcely had D’Artagnan uttered this last cry before the 
door opened, and Athos and Aramis rushed out, sword in hand. 
Thanks to D’Artagnan’s stratagem the road was clear. 

“ The prisoners are escaping ! The prisoners are escaping ! ” 
exclaimed the sergeant. 

“ Stop them ! stop them ! ” vociferated D’Artagnan, giving 
the rein to his furious horse, which darted forward, overturn- 
ing three or four of the men. 

“ Stop ! stop ! ” cried the soldiers, running to their arms. 

But the prisoners were already in their saddles ; and once 
there they lost no time in galloping off toward the nearest 
gate. In the street they perceived Grimaud and Blaisois, who 
were coming to look for their masters. 

By a sign Athos made Grimaud understand everything, and 
he instantly put himself on the track of the small troop, that 
appeared like a whirlwind, and which D’Artagnan, who brought 
up the rear, excited yet more by his voice. They passed 



THE HORSE DARTED FORWARD, OVERTURN NG THREE OR FOUR OF THE MEN 





GREAT HEARTS NEVER LOSE THEIR COURAGE. 


through the gate like shadows, without the guards even thinking 
of stopping them, and found themselves in the open country. 

In the meantime, the soldiers still kept crying out, Stop ! 
stop ! ’’ And the sergeant, who began to discover that he was 
the dupe of a stratagem, was tearing his hair. 

While all this was going on, a cavalier was seen coming up 
at a gallop, holding a paper in his hand. 

It was Mordaunt with the order. 

The prisoners ! ” he exclaimed, as he leaped from his horse. 

The sergeant had not the power to answer him, but pointed 
to the door wide open and the empty room. 

Mordaunt rushed to the steps, understood the whole, uttered 
a cry as if something had torn his ver}’ entrails, and fell down 
insensible on the pavement. 


CHAPTER LXII. 

IN WHICH IT IS PROVED THAT, IN THE MOST DIFFICULT 
SITUATIONS, GREAT HEARTS NEVER LOSE THEIR COURAGE 
OR GOOD STOMACHS THEIR APPETITES. 

The little troop thus proceeded at a gallop, without exchang- 
ing one word, without casting a look behind them ; fording a 
i small stream, the name of which they did not know ; and leav- 
ing on their left a town, which Athos insisted was Durham. 

At last they came in sight of a small wood, and directed 
their course to it, giving their horses a last prick of the spur. 

When they had disappeared behind a screen of verdure 
sufficient to hide them from those who might pursue them, 

I they stopped to hold a consultation. Their horses were 
i entrusted to the two lacqueys, that they might gain their 
j breath, without being unbridled or unsaddled. Grrimaud was 
; placed as sentinel. 

j In the first place, let me embrace you, D’Artagnan, my 
I friend,’’ said Athos ; “ you, our saviour, — you who are the 
! true hero among us.” 

I “ Athos is right and I admire you,” said Aramis, folding him 
; in his arms. Under an intelligent master, to what might you 
I not aspire, with that infallible eye, arm of steel, commanding 
i intellect ? ” 


530 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ Now/’ said the Gascon, “ this is all very well, and I accept 
for myself and Porthos these embraces and thanks ; but we 
have no time to lose. Forward ! forward ! ” 

The two friends, recalled by D’Artagnan to what they owed 
Porthos, also pressed his hands in turn. 

Now,” said Athos, “ the main point is for us not to run 
about at hazard like fools*, but to devise some plan. What are 
we going to do ? ” 

“ What are we going to do ? Mordieux ! that is not difficult 
to tell.” 

Tell it then, D’Artagnan.” 

^^We must gain the first seaport, unite all our little re- 
sources, charter a vessel, and sail to France. I will spend my 
last sou fgr it. The first treasure is life ; and ours, it must be 
confessed, hangs upon a thread.” 

“What do you say to that, Du Vallon ? ” inquired Athos. 

“ I ? ” said Porthos ; “ I am precisely of D'Artagnan’s opinion. 
This England is a villainous country.” 

“ You are, then, quite decided upon leaving it ? ” asked 
Athos of D’Artagnan. 

“ Sang Diou ! ” said D’Artagnan ; “ I do not see what should 
keep me in it.” 

Athos exchanged a look with Aramis. “ Go, then, my 
friends,” he said, with a sigh. 

“ What do you mean — ‘ go ’ ? ” asked D’Artagnan • “ it 
seems to me it is ‘ let us go.’ ” 

“No,” replied Athos — “no, my friend, we must separate.” 

“ Separate ! ” cried D’Artagnan, quite astounded by this 
unexpected declaration. 

“ Bah ! ” said Porthos, “ why should we separate, now that 
we are together ? ” 

“ Because your mission is accomplished, and you can — 
indeed, you must — return to France ; but ours is not accom- 
plished.” 

“ Your mission is not accomplished ? ” exclaimed D’Arta- 
gnan, looking at Athos with surprise. 

“ No, my friend,” replied Athos, with his gentle yet firm 
voice ; “ we came here to defend King Charles ; we have de- 
fended him badly, and it still remains for us to save him.” 

“ Save the King ! ” said D’Artagnan, looking now at Ara- 
mis, as he had before looked at Athos. 

Aramis contented himself with giving a nod of assent. 


GREAT HEARTS NEVER LOSE THEIR COURAGE. 531 


D’Artagnan's countenance assumed an expression of deep 
compassion ; he began to imagine that he was dealing with 
two madmen. 

‘‘You cannot possibly be talking seriously, Athos,” said 
D’Artagnan. “ The King is in the midst of an army which 
is taking him to London. That army is commanded by a 
butcher, or the son of a butcher, which is much the same 
thing, — Colonel Harrison. His Majesty will be tried on his 
arrival in London. I am certain, for I heard quite enough from 
Cromwell’s own lips to make me pretty sure on that point.” 

Athos and Aramis exchanged a second glance. 

“ And when once tried, the sentence will not be delayed,” 
continued D’Artagnan. “ These Puritans are gentry who can 
move pretty quickly at a pinch.” 

“ And to what punishment do you think the King will be 
condemned ? ” said Athos. 

“ To the punishment of death, I fear. They have done too 
much against him to hope that he will pardon them. They 
have therefore only one alternative, and that is to kill him. 
Do you not remember Cromwell’s remark at Paris, when they 
showed him the dungeon of Vincennes, where M. de Vendôme 
was confined ? ” 

“ What did he say ? ” asked Porthos. 

“ ‘ You should never strike princes except at the head.’ ” 

“ I remember it,” said Athos. 

“ And do you believe that he will not follow his own maxim, 
now that he has possession of the King ? ” 

“ Yes, I am even sure of it; and this is only another and 
more cogent reason why we ought not to abandon the august 
head thus threatened.” 

“ Athos, you are becoming mad ! ” 

“No, my friend,” mildly replied that gentleman; “but De 
Winter came for us in France, and introduced us to Madame 
Henrietta. Her Majesty did M. d’Herblay and me the honour 
to ask our aid for her husband. We gave her our word — 
our word comprehended everything. We pledged to her our 
strength, our intellect, — in fine, our life; and we must keep 
our word. Is that your opinion, D’Herblay ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Aramis ; “ we have promised.” 

“ And then we have also another reason,” continued Athos, 
“ and it is this — listen attentively : At the present moment 
everything is in a low, depressed state in France. We have a 


632 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


King ten years old, who, as yet, has no will of his own ; we 
have a Queen whom a late-felt passion renders blind ; we 
have a minister who manages France as he would a large 
farm — that is to say, only thinking of what gold he can 
squeeze from it by working it with Italian intrigue and craft ; 
we have princes who oppose him from selfish motives, 
and who will effect nothing more than to extract from 
Mazarin a few ingots of gold or a few bribes of place. I 
served them, not from enthusiasm (for God knows that I 
estimate them at their value, and that value is not, in my 
estimation, very great), but from principle. Here the case is 
wholly different ; here I have encountered a lofty, a regal, an 
European misfortune, and I attach myself to it. Should we 
succeed in saving the King, it will be a splendid achievement ; 
should we die for him, it will be a noble death.’’ 

Therefore you are convinced beforehand that you will 
perish ? ” said D’Artagnan. 

‘AA^e fear it ; and our only regret is that we shall die far 
from you.” 

‘‘ But what can you do in a foreign and hostile country ? ” 

When young, I travelled in England. I speak English 
like a native, and Aramis also knows something of the lan- 
guage. Ah ! if we had but you with us, nly friends ; with 
you, D’Artagnan, with you, Porthos, — all again reunited 
after a separation of twenty years, — we could make head, 
not only against England, but against the three kingdoms.” 

And did you promise this Queen,” replied D’Artagnan 
sarcastically, to storm the Tower of London, to kill a hun- 
dred thousand soldiers, to struggle successfully against the 
will of a whole nation, and the ambition of such a man as 
Cromwell ? You have not seen that man, Athos, nor have 
you, Aramis. He is a man of genius, who greatly reminded 
me of our Cardinal — the other — the great Cardinal — you 
know whom I mean. Do not, therefore, exaggerate what you 
conceive to be your duty. In the name of Heaven, my dear 
Athos, do not create for yourself a futile devotion. When I 
look at you I believe that I see a rational being ; but when 
you speak I imagine that I hear a madman. Come, Porthos, 
declare your opinion. What do you think of all this ? Speak 
frankly.” 

No good ! ” replied Porthos. 

“ Come, now,” continued D’Artagnan, annoyed on perceiving 


GREAT HEARTS NEVER LOSE THEIR COURAGE. 533 


that Athos, instead of listening to him, appeared to be ab- 
sorbed in his own thoughts, never did you find yourself 
injured by my advice. Well, then, believe me, Athos, your 
mission is terminated — terminated nobly; come back to 
France with us.” 

« My friend,” said Athos, our resolution is immovable.” 

Then you must have some other motive, of which we are 
unapprised.” 

Athos smiled. 

D’Artagnan slapped his thigh with anger, and muttered the 
most convincing arguments he could imagine ; but to all these 
Athos contented himself with merely replying by a calm and 
gentle smile, and Aramis by a motion of his head. 

Well, then ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan, furious, well, then, 
since you wish it, let us leave our bones in this beggarly coun- 
try, where it is always cold — where the fine weather is a per- 
petual mist, mist is rain, and rain a complete deluge — where 
the sun is like the moon, and the moon is like a cream cheese. 
In fact, since we must die, what matters it whether we die here 
or elsew'here ? ” 

Except, my dear friend,” said Athos, “ that it is to die 
sooner.” 

Bah ! a little sooner or a little later is not worth arguing 
about.” 

What astonishes me,” said Porthos sententiously, “ is that 
we are not dead yet.” 

Never fear, Porthos,” said D’Artagnan; that will soon 
be. So now it is agreed upon,” continued the Gascon, and 
if Porthos does not object ” — 

I ? ” said Porthos ; I will do just what you like. Besides, 
I admire all that the Comte de la Fère said just now.” 

But your future prospects, D’Artagnan ? And your am- 
bition, Porthos ? ” 

Our future prospects — our ambition ! ” said D’Artagnan, 
with a feverish volubility ; must we think about them when 
we are saving the King ? When the King is saved, we assemble 
his friends, we beat the Puritans, we reconquer England, we 
reenter London with him, we replace him firmly on the 
throne ” — 

And he makes us lords and dukes,” said Porthos, his eyes 
sparkling with delight, even at the idea of this visionary 
prospect. 


534 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Or — he forgets us/’ said D’Artagnan. 

Oh ! ” exclaimed Porthos. 

Forsooth, such a thing has happened, friend Porthos ; 
methinks we formerly performed a service for the Queen, 
Anne of Austria, that was not much inferior to the one we now 
wish to perform for Charles I. ; which did not, however, pre- 
vent Anne of Austria from forgetting us for twenty years.” 

‘‘Well, D’Artagnan,” said Athos, “notwithstanding this, 
are you sorry that you rendered her that service ? ” 

“ No, by my faith,” replied D’Artagnan ; “ and I even con- 
fess that at those times when I find myself in the worst 
humour I find consolation from that recollection.” 

“ You see, then, D’Artagnan, that though princes are often 
ungrateful, God never is.” 

“ See here, Athos,” said D’Artagnan, “ I verily believe that 
if you should encounter by chance Satan here on earth, you 
would manage so well that you would take him up to heaven 
with you.” 

“ So then ” — said Athos, holding out his hand to D’Arta- 
gnan. 

“ So then ’t is agreed,” said D’Artagnan. “ I find England a 
charming country, and I remain here ; but on one condition.” 

“ What is that ? ” 

“ That I am not compelled to learn English.” 

“ Very well. . Now I swear to you, my friend,” said Athos, 
in great elation, “ by that God who hears us, by my name, 
which I think is spotless, that I believe there is a power 
watches over us, and I entertain a hope that we shall all four 
see France again.” 

“ So be it,” said D’Artagnan ; “ but T confess that my con- 
viction is precisely the reverse.” 

“ This dear D’Artagnan,” said Aramis, “ represents among 
us that parliamentary opposition which always says no and 
always acts yes.’' 

“ Yes ; but which, after all, saves the country,” said Athos. 

“Well, now that everything is settled,” said Porthos, rub- 
bing his hands, “ suppose we think of dinner ? I believe 
that, in the most critical situations of our lives, we have 
always dined.” 

“ Ah ! yes, indeed. But it is useless to talk of dinner in a 
country where for every feast they eat boiled mutton, and for 
their greatest treat they drink beer. Why did you come into 


GREAT HEARTS NEVER LOSE THEIR COURAGE. 535 


such a country, Athos ? Ah, pardon me ! added D’Artagnan, 
smiling, I forgot that you are no longer Athos. But never 
mind ; let us hear your plan for dinner, Porthos.” 

‘‘ My plan ? ” 

‘‘Yes ; have you a plan ? 

“No ; I have only an appetite.” 

“ Pardieu, if that ’s all, 1 have one also. But it is not 
enough to have an appetite ; we must find something to eat, 
unless we munch some grass, like our horses ” — 

“ Ah ! ” said Aramis, who was not so much detached from 
earthly things as Athos, “ when we were at Parpaillot, do you 
remember what beautiful oysters we used to eat ? ” 

“And the legs of mutton from the salt marshes,” added 
Porthos, smacking his lips. 

“ But,” said D’Artagnan, “ have we not our friend Mousque- 
ton, who made you live so well at Chantilly, Porthos ? ” 

“ Yes, we have Mousqueton,” said Porthos ; “ but since he 
became steward he has become mighty stupid. Never mind, 
, let us call him.” 

And, to ensure his answering pleasantly : 

“ Eh ! Mouston,” said Porthos. 

Mouston made his appearance ; his face was very doleful. 

“ What is the matter with you, my dear Monsieur Mous- 
ton ? ” said D’ Artagnan. “ Are you ill ? ” 

“ Sir, I am very hungry,” replied Mousqueton. 

“ Well, it is precisely on that account we called you, my 
dear Monsieur Mouston. Could you not catch us some fine 
little rabbits and some charming partridges, like those of 
which you made fricassees and the salmis at the Hôtel de — 
I Faith, I cannot remember the name of the hôtel ! ” 

' “ At the Hôtel de — By my faith ! ” said Porthos, “ neither 

can I remember the name of that hôtel.” 

“No matter. And, by the lasso, some of those bottles of 
old Butgundy which so quickly cured your master’s sprain ? ” 

“ Alas, sir,” said Mousqueton, “ I am afraid that all you 
ask of me is very scarce in this frightful country ; and I think 
that we should do better if we went and asked hospitality 
from the master of a small house that may be seen on the 
skirts of the wood.” 

“ What ! Is there a house near ? ” inquired D’Artagnan. 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Mousqueton. 

“Well, then, as you say, we will go and request some 


536 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


dinner from the master of that house. Gentlemen, what do 
you say to this ? Does not M. Houston’s advice seem full of 
sense ? ” 

“ Ah ! ” said Aramis ; but should the master be a Puri- 
tan ? ” 

So much the better, mordioux ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

Should he be a Puritan, we will inform him of the King’s 
capture, and for this news he will give us some of his white 
chickens.” 

‘‘ But should he be a Cavalier ? ” said Porthos. 

In that case we will put on a melancholy look, and he will 
give us his black chickens.” 

You are a happy fellow,” said Athos, laughing, in spite 
of himself, at the indomitable Gascon’s sally, for you always 
look on the sunny side of everything.” 

“Ko wonder,” said D’Artagnan, “ for I come from a country 
where there is not a cloud in the sky.” 

“ That is not the case here,” said Porthos, stretching out his 
hand to make himself sure whether a sensation of coolness 
that he had just felt was really caused by a drop of rain. 

“ Come, come,” said D’Artagnan, “ another reason that we 
should go on. Hallo, Grimaud ! ” 

Grimaud made his appearance. 

“Well, Grimaud, my friend, have you seen anything?” 
inquired D’Artagnan. 

“Kothing,” replied Grimaud. 

“ Those weak fools have not even pursued us,” said Porthos. 
“ Oh, if we had been in their place ! ” 

“ And they were wrong,” said D’Artagnan. “ I would will- 
ingly exchange two words with Mordaunt in this little The- 
baic!. What a pretty place to lay a man neatly on the 
earth !” 

“ Decidedly,” said Aramis. “ I believe, gentlemen, that the 
son has not his mother’s energy.” 

“ Ah, my dear friend,” replied Athos, “ wait a little ! It is 
scarcely two hours since we left him, and he does not yet know 
in what direction we have gone or where we are. It will be 
time enough to say that he is weaker than his mother when 
we plant our feet on the soil of France, unless before that we 
are either murdered or poisoned.” 

“Kevertheless, in the meantime let us dine,” said Porthos. 

“ laith, yes,” said Athos, “for I am monstrous hungry.” 


HEALTH TO FALLEN MAJESTY. 


53T 


“ Remember the black chickens ! ” said Aramis. 

And the four friends, led by Mousqueton, proceeded toward 
the house. They were already restored to their habitual 
careless indifference ; for, as Athos had said, they were now 
all four reunited, and of the same mind. 


CHAPTER LXIII. 

HEALTH TO FALLEN MAJESTY. 

As they approached the house, our fugitives observed that 
the ground was much trodden, as if a considerable body of 
horsemen had preceded them. Before the door these traces 
were even more visible ; this troop, whatever it might be, had 
halted there. 

Pardieu ! ’’ said H’Artagnan, “ the thing is clear enough ; 
the King and his escort have passed here.’’ 

‘‘ Diable ! ” cried Porthos ; in that case, they will have 
devoured everything.” 

Bah ! ” said D’Artagiian, they must have left a chicken.” 

And he leaped from his horse and knocked at the door, but 
no one answered. 

He then pushed open the door, which was not fastened, 
and saw that the first room was empty and deserted. 

“ Well ? ” said Porthos. 

“ I can see no one,” said D’Artagnan. Aha ! ” 

“ What ? ” 

Blood ! ” 

At this word the three friends leaped from their horses and 
entered the first room ; but D’Artagnan had already opened 
1 the door of the second, and, by the expression of his counte- 
nance, it was clear that he beheld some extraordinary object. 

The three friends ajoproached, and perceived a man lying 
,011 the fioor, and bathed in a pool of blood. 

It was evident that he had tried to reach his bed, but, 
his strength failing him, he had fallen before he could accom- 
plish it. 

Athos was the first who approached this unfortunate man ; 
he thought that he saw him move. 

‘ Well ? ” exclaimed D’Artagnan. 


538 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ Well, if lie is dead,” said Athos, lie has not been so 
long, for he is still warm. But no ; his heart beats ! Ha, 
friend ! ” 

The wounded man' heaved a sigh. D’Artagnan took some 
water in the hollow of his hand and threw it into his face. 

The man opened his eyes, made an effort to raise his head, 
and fell back again. 

Athos then tried to raise him on his knee ; but he perceived 
that the wound was a little above the neck, and had laid open 
the back part of the skull ; the blood was flowing copiously. 

Aramis dipped a cloth in water and spread it over the 
wound. The coolness revived the sufferer, who opened his 
eyes a second time. 

He looked with astonishment at these men, who appeared to 
pity and were trying to assist him as far as they could. 

You are among friends,” said Athos, in English ; lay 
aside your fears, and, if you have strength enough, tell us 
what has happened.” 

The King,” murmured the wounded man — “the King is a 
prisoner.” 

“ Did you see him ? ” inquired Aramis, in the same language. 

The man did not answer. 

“ Do not be afraid,” said Athos ; “ we are his Majesty’s 
faithful followers.” 

“ Is what you tell me true ? ” asked the wounded man. 

“ On our honour as gentlemen.” 

“ Then I may tell you everything ? ” 

“ Speak.” 

“ I am the brother of Parry, the King’s valet-de-chambre.” 

Athos and Aramis remembered that this was the name by ■ 
which De Winter had addressed the lacquey whom they found ! 
in the passage of the royal tent. 

“We know him,” said Athos ; “ he never left the King.” | 

“ Yes, that is true,” said the wounded man. “Well, then, j 
the King being a captive, he thought of me, and in passing 
this house he requested them, in the King’s name, to stop | 
here. The request was granted. The King, they said, was i 
hungry ; and they brought him into this room that he might j 
take some refreshment. Sentinels were stationed at the doors ) 
and windows. Parry knew this room; for while his Majesty 
was at Newcastle he had many times come to see me. He f 
knew that in this room there was a trap-door, that this trap- i 


HEALTH TO FALLEN MAJESTY. 


539 


door led to the cellar, and that from this cellar they could 
reach the orchard. He made me a sign, I understood it, but 
doubtless this sign was detected by the King’s guards, and 
excited their distrust. Ignorant of their suspicions, I had 
only one wish, which was to save the King. So I went out on 
l)retence of looking for some wood, and thinking that no time 
was to be lost, I entered the subterranean passage that led to 
the cellar with which this trap-door communicated. I lifted 
up the board with my head ; and while Parry gently secured 
the bolt of the door, I made a sign to the King to follow me. 
Alas ! he did not wish to do so ; it seemed as if this kind of 
flight was repugnant to him. But Parry clasped his hands in 
supplication, and I also implored him not to lose such an 
opportunity. At last he made up his mind to follow me. For- 
tunately, I walked first ; the King was some paces behind 
me. Suddenly I beheld something like a great shadow start 
up. I wished to cry out, to warn the King, but had not time. 
I felt a blow, as if the whole house had fallen on my head, 
and fell insensible.” 

Cxood and loyal Englishman ! Faithful servant ! ” exclaimed 
Athos. 

When I recovered my senses, I was lying on the same 
spot. I dragged myself to the courtyard ; the King and his 
escort were gone. It took me about an hour to crawl from the 
yard to this place ; but here my strength failed me, and I 
became insensible a second time.” 

And how do you feel now ? ” 

Very ill,” replied the wounded man. 

“ Can we do anything for you ? ” said Athos. 

Help me to get into bed ; that will give me some relief, I 
think.” 

AVill there be any one to assist you ? ” 

My wife is at Durham, and will be back any moment. 
But do you need anything — do you want anything ? ” 

We came to ask you for something to eat.” 

Alas ! they have taken everything, and there is not a mor- 
sel of bread left in the house.” 

Do you hear, D’Artagnan ? ” said Athos ; “ we must look 
for our dinner elsewhere.” 

I do not care about it now,” said D’Artagnan ; I am no 
longer hungry.” 

“ Faith, nor I either,” said Porthos. 


540 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


They carried the man to his bed, and called for Grimaud, 
who dressed the wound. Grimaud had, in the service of the 
four friends, had so many occasions to make lint and com- 
presses that he had acquired some smattering of surgery. 

In the meantime the fugitives had returned to the front 
room, and were holding a consultation. 

Now,” said Aramis, we know what we are about. The 
King and his escort have really passed this way. We must 
take an opposite direction. Is that your opinion, Athos ? ” 

Athos did not answer ; he was reflecting. 

‘‘Yes,” said Porthos, “let us take an opposite direction. 
If we follow the escort we shall find everything devoured, 
and shall die of hunger. What a cursed country this Eng- 
land is ! It is the first time that I ever went without my 
dinner. Dinner is my principal meal.” 

“ What do you think, D’Artagnan ? ” said Athos ; “ are you 
of Aramis’s opinion ? ” 

“ No,” said D’Artagnan ; “ my opinion is diametrically 
opposed to it.” 

“ What ! Would you follow the escort ? ” said Porthos, in 
alarm. 

“ No, but pursue the journey with them.” 

Athos’s eyes sparkled with joy. 

“ Journey with the escort ! ” cried Aramis. 

“ Let D’Artagnan explain himself,” said Athos. “ You know 
that he excels in giving good advice.” 

“There is no sort of doubt,” said D’Artagnan, “that our 
best plan is to go where they would not think of looking for 
us. Now, they will have no idea of looking for us among the 
Puritans. Let us join the Puritans ! ” 

“ Excellent advice, my friend,” said Athos. “ I was just 
going to propose it when you anticipated me.” 

“ So that is your opinion, is it ? ” said Aramis. 

“ Yes, they will think that we wish to leave England, and 
will seek us at the seaports. In the meantime, we shall 
reach London with the King. Once in London and we are 
undisco verable ; in the midst of a million there is no difli- 
culty ill concealment ; without taking into consideration,” 
continued Athos, “ the chances that may offer themselves on 
the road.” 

“ Yes,” said Aramis, “ I understand.” 

“ I do not understand,” said Porthos. “ But never mind j 


HEALTH TO FALLEN MAJESTY. 


541 


since this is the opinion of both Athos and D’Artagnan, it 
must be the best.” 

‘‘ But/’ said Aramis, shall we not be suspected by Colonel 
Harrison ? ” 

'^Eh! mordioux!” said D’Artagnan, he is the only man 
on whom I depend. Colonel Harrison is one of our friends ; 
we saw him twice at Cromwell’s. He knows that we were 
sent from France by Mazarin, and so he will consider us as 
comrades. ^ Besides, is he not a butcher’s son? Well, then, 
Porthos will teach him how to knock down an ox with a blow 
of his fist ; and I how to overthrow a bull by taking him by 
the horns. That will secure his confidence.” 

Athos smiled. 

You are the very best companion that I know, D’Arta- 
gnan,” said he, holding out his hand to him ; and I am very 
happy that I have again found you, my dear son.” 

This, as we know, was the term that Athos always applied 
to D’Artagnan when his heart overflowed. 

At this moment Grimaud came from the inner room. He 
had dressed the man’s wound, and had left him much relieved. 

The four friends took leave of him and inquired if he had 
any commission to give them for. his brother. 

Tell him,” said the worthy fellow, “ to inform the King 
that they did not quite kill me ; for, humble as I am, I am sure 
that the King is sorry for me, and reproaches himself as the 
cause of my death.” 

“ Be assured,” said D’Artagnan, that the King shall know 
it before the evening.” 

The little troop resumed its journey. There was no mistak- 
ing the road ; that which they followed was sufficiently traced 
across the plain. At the end of two hours’ silent ride, D’Arta- 
gnan, who led the party, stopped at a turn of the road. 

Aha ! ” said he, here they are ! ” 

In fact, about half a mile in advance, they saw a consider- 
able body of horsemen. 

My dear friends,” said D’Artagnan, give your swords to 
M. Mouston, who will return therm to you at the proper time 
and place; and do not forget that you are our prisoners.” 

Putting their horses, which began to be fatigued, into a trot, 
they soon joined the escort. 

The King, placed in front, and surrounded by a party of 
Harrison’s troopers, was proceeding with an unmoved coun- 


542 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


tenance, always dignified, and with a sort of resigned wil- 
lingness. 

On seeing. Athos and Aramis, of whom he had not been 
allowed to take leave, — on reading in their looks that he had 
still some friends near him, although he thought that these 
friends were prisoners, — a flush of pleasure mantled the King’s 
pale cheeks. 

D’Artagnan rode up to the head of the column, leaving his 
friends under the guard of Porthos. He went straight to 
Harrison, who recollected having seen him with Cromwell, and 
received him as politely as a man of his condition and char- 
acter could receive any one. As D’Artagnan had anticipated, 
the Colonel had no suspicion. 

Their next halt was at the place where the , King was to 
dine. But this time every precaution was taken that he might 
not attempt to escape. In the principal room of the inn a 
small table was placed for him, and a larger one for the offi- 
cers. 

^‘Will you dine with me ? ” said Harrison to D’Artagnan. 

“ Diable ! ” said D’Artagnan, “ it would give me great pleas- 
ure; but I have a companion, M. du Vallon, and my two 
prisoners, whom I cannot leave, and who would crowd your 
table. But let us do a better thing : set a table for us in one 
corner, and send us what you can spare from your own ; for, 
without that, we run the risk of dying of hunger. We shall 
still be dining together, as we dine in the same room.” 

Very good ! ” said Harrison. 

The matter was arranged as D’Artagnan proposed ; and 
when he rejoined the Colonel he found the King seated at his 
little table, attended by Parry, Harrison, and his officers at the 
larger table, and places reserved for him and his comrades in a 
corner. 

The table at which the Puritan officers were seated was 
round, and, either by chance or from a brutal design, Harrison 
turned his back on the King. 

The King saw the four gentlemen come in, but appeared to 
take no notice of them. 

They took their seats at the table reserved for them, and 
placed themselves in such a manner as to turn their backs on 
no one. They had, in front of them, tb ; officers’ table, and 
also the King’s. ^ 

Harrison^ to honour his o-iiests. sent some of the best dishes 


UEALTII TO FALLEN MAJESTY. 


543 


to their table. Unfortunately for the four friends, there was 
no wine. To Athos this was quite immaterial ; but D’Arta- 
gnan, Torthos, and Aramis made wry faces every time they 
had to swallow beer, that Puritan beverage. 

“ Faith, Colonel,” said D’Artagnan, we are veiy grateful to 
you for your polite invitation ; for had it not been for you we 
should have run the risk of going without our dinner, as we 
went without our breakfast; and here is my friend, M. du 
Vallon, who shares my gratitude, for he was desperately 
hungry.” 

“ I am hungry still,” said Porthos, bowing to Harrison. 

And how did it happen that you went without your break- 
fast ? ” asked Harrison, laughing. 

^‘For a very simple reason. Colonel,” replied D’Artagnan. 

I was in great haste to join you ; and, to accomplish it, I 
took the same road that you did, which, old forager as I am, 
I ought not to have done, knowing well enough that nothing 
Avould be left where a good and hearty regiment like yours 
had passed. We halted at a pretty little house, situated on 
the edge of a wood, and which, from a distance, with its red- 
tiled roof and green shutters, had such a smiling api^earance 
that it was quite a pleasure to look at it ; but you may imag- 
ine our disappointment when, instead of finding there the 
('-hickens that we were ready to roast, and legs of mutton 
which we calculated on grilling, we saw nothing but a poor 
devil bathed — Ah ! mordiou. Colonel, make my respects to 
that officer of yours who gave that blow; it was well given 
indeed — so well that it even excited the admiration of my 
friend, M. du Vallon, who also gives blows with great neat- 
ness.” 

Yes,” said Harrison, laughing, and looking at an officer 
seated at the table, when Groslow undertakes that sort of 
work, there is no need of coming after him.” 

Ah, it was that gentleman ? ” said D’Artagnan, bowing to 
the officer. I regret that he does not speak French, that I 
might pay him a compliment upon it.” 

“ I am quite ready to receive and to return it, sir,” said the 
officer, in pretty good French ; for I lived in Paris for three 
years.” 

“ Well then, sir, I am anxious to tell you,” continued D’Ar- 
tagnan, that the blow was so well applied that you almost 
killed your m in.” 


544 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


I thought that I had quite killed him,” said Groslow. 

No. It was a pretty close call, it is true ; but he is not 
dead.” 

And, in saying these words, D’Artagnan glanced at Parry, 
who, pale and motionless, was standing near the King, to let 
him know that this news was intended for him. 

The King had listened to this conversation with indescrib- 
able anguish ; he did not know what the French officer was 
going to say, and these cruel particulars, related in a tone of 
careless indifference, greatly revolted him. 

But at the last words only he breathed freely. 

Ah ! diable ! ” said Groslow ; “ I thought I had succeeded 
better ; and if it were not so far to the house of that wretch, 
I would return to finish him.” 

“ And you would do well, if you fear his recovery,” said 
D’Artagnan ; for you know that wounds on the head, if they 
are not immediately mortal, are generally cured in the space 
of a week.” 

And D’Artagnan glanced a second time at Parry, over whose 
countenance such an expression of joy was diffused that Charles 
stretched out his hand to him, smiling. 

Parry bent over his master’s hand, and respectfully kissed it. 

“ Really,” whispered Athos to D’Artagnan, you are a man 
of honour and a man of talent. But what do you think of 
the King ? ” 

His face much pleases me,” said D’Artagnan ; he has an 
expression at once noble and good.” 

‘‘Yes, but he allowed himself to be taken,” said Porthos ; 
“ that was wrong.” 

“ I have a desire to drink the King’s health,” said Athos. 

“ Then let me propose his health,” said D’Artagnan. 

“ Do so,” said Aramis. 

Porthos looked at D’Artagnan, astounded by the resources 
that his Gascon wit incessantly supplied to his comrade. 

D’Artagnan took his tin goblet, filled it, and rose. 

“ Gentlemen,” said he to his companions, “ let us drink, if 
you please, to him who presides over this repast — to our 
Colonel, and let him understand that we are entirely at his 
service, to London or beyond it.” 

And as D’Artagnan looked at Harrison while he was speak- 
ing, Harrison believed that the toast was intended for him. He 
therefore rose up and bowed to the four friends, who, with 


D'ARTAGNAN FINDS A PLAN. 


545 


their eyes fixed on the King, drank together ; while Harrison 
emptied his goblet without suspicion. 

Charles, on his part, held out his glass to Parry, who poured 
into it some drops of beer — for the King was restricted to 
the same beverage as the others ; then putting it to his lips, 
and looking toward the four gentlemen, he drank, with a smile 
full of dignity and gratitude. 

“ Come, gentlemen, we must move,’’ said Harrison, setting 
down his glass, and without evincing any consideration for the 
illustrious prisoner he was conducting. 

Where do we sleep. Colonel ? ” 

“ At Thirsk,” replied Harrison. 

Parry,” said the King, rising and turning to his valet, 
my horse ; I wish to go to Thirsk.” 

Faith,” said D’Artagnan to Athos, your King has truly 
won my heart, and I am entirely at his service.” 

If what you say is sincere,” replied Athos, he will not 
reach London.” 

How so ? ” 

Why, because we shall have carried him off before he gets 
there.” 

Keally,” said D’Artagnan, upon my honour, Athos, you 
are mad.” 

“ Why, have you devised any plan ? ” asked Aramis. 

Ah ! ” said Porthos, “ the thing would not be impossible, 
provided we had but a good plan of action.” 

1 have none,” said Athos ; but D’Artagnan will find 
one.” 

D’Artagnan shrugged his shoulders, and they resumed their 
journey. 


CHAPTER LXIV. 
d’artagxan finds a plan. 

Athos knew D’Artagnan better perhaps than D’Artagnan 
knew himself. He was aware that just as it is sufficient to 
drop a seed into a strong and fertile soil, all it needed was to 
let an idea fall into the Gascon’s adventurous mind. He had 
therefore quietly let his friend shrug his shoulders, and had 
continued his route, talking with him about Raoul, a subject of 


546 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


conversation which, it will be remembered, he had completely 
avoided on another occasion. 

At the close of the day they reached Thirsk. The four 
friends appeared perfectly indifferent to the precautions taken 
to secure the King’s person. They retired to a private house ; 
and as they had constant fears on their own account, they estab- 
lished themselves in one room, taking care to secure a means 
of retreat in case of attack. The lacqueys were stationed at 
different points ; Grimaud slept on a bundle of straw across 
the doorway. 

D’Artagnan was thoughtful, and, for a time, appeared to 
have lost his customary loquacity. He did not say a word, but 
whistled incessantly, and kept wandering from his bed to the 
window. Porthos, who never saw further than the outside of 
things, talked as usual. D’Artagnan answered him by monosyl- 
lables. Athos and Aramis looked at each other with a smile. 

The journey had been fatiguing ; and yet, with the excep- 
tion of Porthos, whose sleep was as faithful as his appetite, 
the friends slept badly. 

The next morning D’Artagnan was up first. He had already 
gone down to the stables, he had examined the horses, he had 
given all the necessary orders for the day, even before Athos 
and Aramis were up, and while Porthos was still snoring. 

At eight in the morning they resumed their journey in the 
same order as on the previous day ; only D’Artagnan left his 
friends to ride together, while he went forward to renew 
the acquaintance begun the evening before with M. Groslow, 
who, flattered by D’Artagnan’s eulogiums, received him most 
graciously. 

“ Keally, sir,” said D’Artagnan to him, I am most fortu- 
nate in finding some one with whom I may talk my poor 
language. M. du Vallon, my friend, is of a very melancholy 
temperament, so that it is difticult to extract four words a day 
from him ; and as for our two prisoners, you may imagine that 
they are not in a good mood for conversation.” 

They are violent Royalists,” said Groslow. 

Another reason for their pouting at us because we have 
taken the Stuart, whom, by the by, I hope you mean incon- 
tinently to bring to trial.” 

Forsooth ! ” said Groslow, we are taking him to London 
for that very purpose.” 

‘‘And you will not lose sight of him, I presume ? ” 


dwrtagnan finds a plan. 547 

“ i^o, indeed ! You may perceive/’ added the officer, 
laughing, ''that he has truly a regal escort.” 

" Oh ! during the day there is no danger of his escaping ; but 
at night ” — 

" During the night our precautions are redoubled.” 

" What mode do you adopt, so as to ensure keeping him ? ” 
" Eight men remain constantly in his room.” 

" Diable ! ” said D’Artagnan ; " he is well guarded. But, 
besides these eight men, no doubt you place a guard outside ? 
Too great precautions cannot be taken against such a pris- 
I oner.” 

" Oh, no. Only consider : what could two unarmed men do 
against eight men with arms ? ” 

" What do you mean ? Two men ? ” 

" Yes, the King and his valet de chambre.” 

: " Then you allow his valet to remain with him ? ” 

"Yes ; Stuart requested this favour, and Colonel Harrison 
granted it ; pretending that he is King, it seems that he cannot 
j dress and undress himself without assistance.” 

: " Really, Captain,” said D’Artagnan, resolved to continue 

! the system of laudation that had succeeded so well, " the more I 
listen to you, the more astonished I am at the easy and elegant 
I manner in which you speak French. You lived three years in 
Paris, you say. Well, I might pass all my life in London, I 
am quite sure, without reaching the perfection that you have 
acquired. What did you do in Paris ? ” 

" My father, who is a merchant, placed me with his agent, 
who, in return, sent his son to my father ; it is a custom among 
' merchants to make such exchanges.” 

" And were you pleased with Paris, sir ? ” 

"Yes. But you sadly want a revolution, like our own; 
not against your King, who is a mere child, but against that 
rascally Italian, who is your Queen’s lover.” 

" Ah ! I am quite of your opinion, sir ; and it could soon be 
managed if we had only a dozen officers, like yourself, without 
prejudices, vigilant, and incorruptible. Ah ! we should soon 
settle that Mazarin, and treat him with a nice little trial, like 
that you are going to give your King.” 

" But,” said the officer, " I thought that you were in his 
service, and that he sent you to General Cromwell ? ” 

" That is to say, I am in the' King’s service ; and knowing 
that he wanted to send some one into England, I applied for 


548 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


the mission, so great was my desire to become acquainted with 
the great man who at present governs the three kingdoms. So, 
when he proposed to M. du Vallon and myself to draw our 
swords in honour of Old England, you saw how we jumped at 
the proposition.” 

“ Yes, I know that you charged by the side of M. Mordaunt.” 

“ On his right and left, sir. Peste ! that is a brave and 
excellent young man. How he doubled up his uncle ! Did 
you see it ? ” 

Do you know him ? ” demanded the officer. 

Yes, well ; I may even say that we are very intimate. M. 
du Vallon and I came from France with him.” 

It seems that you kept him waiting a long time at 
Boulogne.” j 

“ What would you have ? ” said D’Artagnan. Like you, ■ 
I was guarding a king.” 

“ Aha ! ” said Groslow ; what king ? ” 

Ours, by Jove ! The little King Louis XIV.” 

And D’Artagnan took off his hat. The Englishman did the 
same. 

And how long did you guard him ? ” 

Three nights ; and, by my faith, I shall always remember 
those three nights with pleasure.” 

So, then, the young King is very amiable ? ” ; 

The King ? He was sleeping like a top.” i 

What do you mean, then ?” I 

“ I mean that my friends, the officers of the Guards and ! 
Musketeers, came to bear me company, and that we passed our \ 
nights in drinking and dicing.” * 

“ Ah, yes ! ” said the Englishman, with a sigh ; it is true, 
you Frenchmen are jolly companions.” , 

“ Do you not play, then, when you are on guard ? ” , 

Never,” replied the Englishman. 

In that case you must be monstrously tired, and I pity 
you,” said D’Artagnan. 

The fact is,” replied the officer, that I see my turn come 
round with a certain terror. A whole night is a dreadful long ' 
time to watch.” \ 

Yes, when one watches alone, with a parcel of stupid ' 
soldiers ; but when one watches with a pleasant comrade, and ; 
the gold and the dice roll along the table, the night passes like i 
a dream. Can it be that you do not like dicing ? ” i 


D'ARTAGNAN FINDS A PLAN. 


549 


Quite the contrary.’’ 
f Lansquenet, for instance ? ” 

i I ain passionately fond of it 5 I played it almost every 
night in France.” 

I ‘‘ And since your return to England ? ” 

I have not touched a dice-box or a card.” 

“ I pity you ! ” said D’Artagnan, with an air of deep com- 
passion. 

Listen,” said the Englishman : “ do one thing for me ? ” 

I What is that ? ” 

I To-morrow I am on guard.” 

‘‘ Over the Stuart ? ” 

“ Yes. Come and spend the night with me ? ” 

. , ‘‘ Impossible ! ” 

Impossible ? ” 

Yes, altogether impossible.” 

^^Why so?” 

Every night I play with M. du Vallon. Sometimes we do 
not even go to bed ; this morning, for instance, we were play- 
ing till daylight.” 

Well, what then ? ” 

He would not know what to do, if I did not play with him.” 

‘‘ Is he a good player ? ” 

I have seen him lose two thousand pistoles, laughing till 
the tears came.” 

“ Then bring him with you.” 

How can I do that with our prisoners ? ” 

Ah, the deuce, that ’s true ! ” said the officer. But make 
your lacqueys guard them.” 

Yes, that they may escape ! ” said D’Artagnan. “ I have 
no guards. ” 

They are men of rank, then, since you take such care of 
them.” 

‘‘ Yes, indeed. One is a rich nobleman of Touraine ; the 
other, a Knight of Malta, of a high family. We have settled 
their ransom — two thousand pounds sterling, on reaching 
France. So we are unwilling to leave men whom our lacqueys 
know to be millionaires. We have pretty well searched 
their pockets since we took them ; and I will confess to you 
that it is their money that M. du Vallon and myself keep 
handling every night. But they may have concealed from 
us some jewels, some valuable diamond ; so that we are like 


650 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


misers who do not leave their treasure. We have constituted 
ourselves permanent guardians of our men, and when I sleep 
M. du Vallon watches.” 

“ Aha ! ” said Groslow. 

So nnw you understand why I am compelled to refuse your 
polite invitation, for which I am the more grateful as nothing 
is so tiresome as always to play with the same person. The 
chances always balance each other, and at the end of a 
month, one finds that nothing has been done.” 

‘‘ Ah ! ” said Groslow, with a sigh, there is one thing still 
more tiresome, and that is, never to play at all.” 

“ I can well understand that,” said D’Artagnan. 

But let us see,” said the Englishman ; are these two men 
of yours dangerous ? ” 

In what respect ? ” 

Are they likely to attempt an escape ? ” 

D’Artagnan burst, out laughing. 

Jésus Dieu ! ” he exclaimed ; one of them has a shaking 
fever, because he can’t get used to the charming country you 
live in ; and the other, although a Knight of Malta, is as timid 
as a young girl. Then besides, for greater security, we have 
even deprived them of their clasp knives and pocket scissors.” 

Well, then, bring them with you.” 

Do you really wish it ? ” said D’Artagnan. 

Yes ; I have eight men with me.” 

‘‘ And what then ? ” 

‘^Eour shall guard them and four shall guard the King.” 

“Why, the affair might be managed in that manner,” said 
D’Artagnan ; “ though it would be giving you a great deal of 
trouble.” 

“ Bah ! Come anyway ; you shall see how I will arrange it 
all.” 

“Oh ! I do not disturb myself about that,” said D’Artagnan ; 

“ I would trust such a man as you are with my eyes blind- 
folded.” I 

This last dose of flattery extracted from the officer one of i 
those little laughs of satisfaction that make friends of those :j 
who excite them, for they are the ebullitions of gratified ) 
vanity. 

“ But,” said D’Artagnan, “ I have been thinking what there ; 
is to hinder our beginning this very evening.” 

“ What ? ” 


D'^ARTAGNAN FINDS A PL. 


“ Our play.” 

; “Nothing in the world,” said Groslow. 

“ Well, then, come this evening to us, and tol 
1' return your visit. Should you feel any distrl 
men, who, as you know, are violent Royalists, A 
■ will be nothing more to say about it; you/wi 
i have passed a pleasant evening.” ^ 

“ Excellent ! This evening at your house , to-n 
Stuart’s; the day after at mine.” 

“ And the other days in London. Eh, Mordiou ! 

D’Artagnan ; “ you see that one may pass a pleasant n 
j where.” 

“ Yes, when one meets Frenchmen, and such Frenchmen as 
II you are,” said Groslow. 

I “ And as to M. du Vallon — you will see what a merry fellow 
he is! He is a terrible Frondeur; a man who came near 
i killing Mazarin in the house one day. They employ him be- 
j cause they fear him.” 

“ Yes,” said Groslow, ‘‘ he has a fine figure ; and, though 
j I do not know him, he greatly pleases me.” 

{ “ It will be another story when you know him. But hark ! 

: He is calling me. Pardon me ; we are so united that he cannot 
i do without me. Will you excuse me ? ” 

“ How is it settled, then ? ” 
i “ F or this evening ” — 

“At your lodgings ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

The two men saluted, and D’Artagnan returned to his com- 
panions’. 

“ What the plague can you have been saying to that bull- 
Î dog ? ” asked Porthos. 

j “ My dear friend, do not speak in that manner of M. Gros- 
i low ; he is one of my most intimate friends.” 

\ “ One of your friends ! ” said Porthos ; “ that murderer of 

j peasants ! ” 

! “ Hush ! my dear Porthos. Certainly he is ! Although M. 

I Groslow is certainly a little sharp, yet I have found that he 
I has two good qualities — he is a blockhead and he is vain.” 

' Porthos opened his astçnished eyes. Athos and Aramis 
Hooked at each other with a smile ; they knew D’Artagnan, and 
were well assured that he never did anything without a 
motive. 


\TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 

I 

” continued D’ Artagnan, you will judge of him your- 
so ? 

going to introduce him to you this evening. He is 
j play with me.^’ 

! ’’ said Porthos, whose eyes sparkled at these words ; | 
.o he rich ? ’’ 

He is the son of one of the first merchants in London.^’ 

And does he know lansquenet ? 

He adores it.’’ j 

And basset ? ” j 

It is his hobby.” | 

‘‘ Biribi ? ” 

‘‘ He is most skilful at it.” 

“Good,” saidPorthos; “we shall pass a most agreeable 
evening.” 

“ The more agreeable as it is the prelude to one still more | 
so.” • ■; 

“ How is that ? ” ^ 

“ Why, we entertain him this evening ; and to-morrow he is 
to entertain us.” 

“ Where ? ” ^ 

“ I will tell you. But in the meantime let us attend to one 
thing only, and that is, to receive worthily the honour that 
M. Groslow pays us. This evening we shall stop at Derby. 
Let Mousqueton go forward ; and if there is only one bottle 
of wine in the whole town, let him buy it. Nor would it be 
amiss if he also prepared a good supper ; of which, however, 
you must not partake, Athos, because you have a fever ; nor I 
you, Aramis, because you are a Knight of Malta ; and let the 
proceedings of such old campaigners as we are much displease 
you and make you blush. Do you hear all this ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Porthos, “ but the devil take me if I can under- j 
stand it.” \ 

“ Porthos, my friend, you must know that I descend from j 
the prophets on my father’s side, and from the sibyls on my j 
mother’s, so that I speak only in parables and enigmas. Let ! 
those that have ears hear, and those that have eyes look. 
I can say no more at present.” . 

“ Go ahead, my friend,” said Athos ; “ I am quite sure that, 
what you do will be well done.” ' ' 

“ And are you of the same opinion, Aramis ?” ‘ j 


D'ARTAGNAN FINDS A PLAN. 


563 


Quite so, my dear D’Artagnan.’’ 

Very well,” said D’Artagnaii; you are true believers, and 
there is some pleasure in working miracles for you. You are 
i not like that incredulous Porthos, who always wants to see and 
I feel in order to believe.” 

The fact is,” said Porthos, with a shrewd look, I am 
very sceptical.” 

D’Artagnan gave him a slap on the shoulder ; and as they 
were just arriving at the place where they were to dine, the 
conversation ended. 

About five o’clock in the afternoon they sent Mousqueton 
forward, as had been arranged. Mousqueton could not speak 
English ; but since he had been in England, he had remarked 
that Grimaud by his practice in signs had made them take 
the place of speech. So he had studied gestures with Gri- 
maud, and after some few lessons, thanks to the master’s supe- 
riority, he had acquired some skill. Blaisois accompanied 
him. 

The four friends, as they went down the principal street 
of Derby, saw Blaisois standing at the door of a handsome- 
looking house ; their quarters were ready for them there. 

During the whole day they had not gone near the King, for 
fear of exciting suspicions ; and instead of dining at Colonel 
Harrison’s table, as they had done on the previous day, they 
dined by themselves. 

Groslow came at the hour appointed, and D’Artagnan re- 
ceived him as if he had been a friend of twenty years’ stand- 
ing. Porthos measured him from top to toe, and smiled on 
perceiving that, in spite of the blow he had given to Parry’s 
brother, he was not equal in strength. Athos and Aramis did 
all they could to conceal the disgust that his coarse and brutal 
manners inspired. 

In fine, Groslow seemed satisfied with his reception. 

Athos and Aramis kept up their characters. At midnight 
they retired to their chamber, the door of which was left open 
under pretence of goodwill. Besides, D’Artagnan accompanied 
them, leaving Porthos engaged with Groslow. 

Porthos won fifty pistoles from Groslow, and came to the 
conclusion, after he was gone, that his company was much 
more agreeable than he had at first expected. 

Groslow promised himself, on the morrow, to revenge on 
D’Artagnau the check he had received from Porthos, and left 


554 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


the Gascon, reminding him of the appointment for the 
evening. 

We say the evening, for the players separated at four in the i 
morning. I 

The day passed as usual. D’Artagnan went from Groslow , 
to Colonel Harrison, and from Colonel Harrison to his friends. 
To any one who did not know him, D’Artagnan appeared to be ' 
in his usual state of mind. To his friends — that is to say, j 
to Athos and Aramis — his gayety appeared feverish. j 

“ What can he be planning ? ’’ queried Aramis. 

Let us wait,’’ replied Athos. \ 

Porthos said nothing ; he only counted one after the other 
in his fob, with an air of satisfaction betrayed in his face, the 
fifty pistoles that he had won from Groslow. 

On reaching Pyston in the evening, D’Artagnan assembled 
his friends. His face had lost that expression of careless 
gayety it had worn as a mask all the day. Athos pressed 
Aramis’s hand. 

“ Is the moment at hand ? ” he said. 

Yes,” said D’Artagnan, who had heard him, — yes, the 
moment is at hand. This night, gentlemen, we save the 
King.” 

Athos started ; his eyes sparkled. D’Artagnan,” said he, 
doubt succeeding his hopes, this is no joke, is it ? It would 
hurt me too much.” 

“ It is strange, Athos,” replied D’Artagnan, that you 
should distrust me in this manner. Where and when did you | 
find me jest with a friend’s heart or a king’s life ? I have said 
to you, and I repeat it, that this night we save King Charles^ ; 
You relied on me to find some means : the means is found.” : 

Porthos looked at D’Artagnan with a feeling of profound I 
admiration; Aramis smiled like a man full of hope; Athos j 
was deadly pale and trembled in all his limbs. 

“ Speak,” said Athos. 

Porthos opened his eyes wide ; Aramis hung, as it were, on 
D’Artagnan’s lips. 

We are invited to spend the evening with M. Groslow ; 
you are aware of that ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Porthos ; he made us promise to give him 
his revenge.” 

Very well. But do you know where we are to give him 
his revenge ? ” 


D'^ARTAGNAN FINDS A PLAN. 555 


At the King’s.’’ 

' “At the King’s ? ” exclaimed Athos. 

“ Yes, gentlemen, at the King’s. M. Groslow is on guard 
to-night over his Majesty ; and, to divert him in his duty, he 
: invites us to keep him company.” 

“ All four ? ” demanded Athos. 

“ Pardieu ! all four. Could we leave our prisoners ? ” 

“ Aha ! ” cried Aramis. 

“ Let us see,” said Athos, much éxcited. 

“ So we go to M. Groslow — we with our swords, you with 
: your poignards. We four must master those eight imbeciles 
and their stupid commander. What do you say to that. Mon- 
sieur Porthos ? ” 

: “I say that it is easy,” answered Porthos. 

“ We will dress the King in Groslow’s clothes ; Mousqueton, 
I Grimaud, and Blaisois will hold our horses all ready at the 
j corner of the first street ; we leap upon them, and before day- 
j light we are twenty leagues fro'm here. Kow, is that well 
i; planned, Athos ?” 

j Athos placed his two hands on D’Artagnan’s shoulder, and 
! looked at him with his calm and gentle smile. 

I “ I declare, my friend,” said he, “ that there is no creature 
i under heaven that equals you in nobility and courage. While 
i we have been imagining that you were indifferent to our sor- 
; row's (which you really might have refused to share, without 
! criminality), you alone have found what we were vainly seek- 
ing. So I repeat, D’Artagnan, that you are the best of us, and 
I bless and love you, my dear son ! ” 

“ The idea of my not thinking this out ! ” said Porthos, clap- 
ping his hand to his forehead, “ although it is so simple.” 

“ But,” said Aramis, “ if I understand correctly, we are to 
kill them all — are we not ? ” 

Athos shuddered and turned very pale. 

“ Mordiou ! ” said D’Artagnan, “ it will be absolutely nec- 
essary. For a long time I sought for some means of avoiding 
it, but I confess that I could find none.” 

“ Let us see,” said Aramis ; “ we must face our situation 
boldly. How are we to proceed ? ” 

“I have formed a. double plan,” replied D’Artagnan. 

“Let us hear the first,” said Aramis. 

“Should we be all four together, at my signal — and this 


556 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


signal shall be the words ^ at last ’ — each of you must plunge | 
a poignard into the heart of the soldier who is nearest to you, 1 
and we must do the same. Thus, four men will be at once S 
disposed of ; the odds then become equal, as we shall then be *1 
four to five. Those five will either surrender and we shall - 
gag them, or they will resist and we must kill them. If by | 
chance our Amphitryon should change his mind, and receive 
to his party only Porthos and me, why, then we shall have \ 
harder work and must strike double ; it will make it rather : 
longer and cause more disturbance ; but you will be ready ! 
outside with your swords, and must hasten to us at the first ; 
noise.” ' 

‘‘ But should you yourself be struck ? ” said Athos. 

“ Impossible ! ” said D’Artagnan ; these beer-swillers are 
too heavy and awkward. Besides, you must strike at the^ 
throat, Porthos : it kills as quickly, and prevents those whom 
you kill from calling out.” 

Very well ! ” said Porthos ; “ it will be a pretty little 
throat-cutting.” 

Horrible ! horrible ! ” exclaimed Athos. 

‘^Bah! you sensitive gentleman,” said D’Artagnan; you 
would kill many more in a battle. However, my friend,” 
continued he, “ if you think the King’s life is not worth what 
it will cost, why, nothing has been said, and I will send to 
inform M. Groslow that I am unwell.” 

Ko,” said Athos ; I am wrong and you are right, my 
friend. Pardon me.” 

At this very moment the door opened and a soldier ap- 
peared. 

“ Captain Groslow,” said he, in bad French, informs M. 
d’Artagnan and M. du Vallon that he is waiting for them.” 

“ Where ? ” asked D’Artagnan. 

‘‘ In the room of the English Nebuchadnezzar,” replied the 
soldier, an outrageous Puritan. 

^‘Very well,” said Athos, in excellent English, and colour- 
ing at the insult offered to royalty, — very well ; tell Captain 
Groslow that we are coming.” 

Then the Puritan withdrew. Orders had been given to the 
lac^queys to saddle eight horses, and to wait with them, with- 
out separating or dismounting, at the corner of a street situ- 
ated at about twenty paces from the house in which the King 
lodged. 


THE GAME OF LANSQUENET, 


557 


CHAPTER LXV. 


THE GAME OF LANSQUENET. 

It was now nine in the evening. The guard had been 
relieved at eight, and for an hour Captain Groslow had been 
on duty. 

H’Artagnan and Porthos armed with their swords, and 
I Athos and Aramis each having a poignard concealed in his 
breast, went to the house which that evening served as the 
prison of Charles Stuart. The two last followed their con- 
querors, humble and apparently unarmed, as prisoners. 

“Faith,” said Groslow, on seeing them, “I had almost 
given you up.” 

D’Artagnan went up to him and said in a low voice : 

“In fact, we (M. du Vallon and myself) were for some 
time rather doubtful about coming.” 

“ Why so ? ” inquired Groslow. 

D’Artagnan cast a significant glance at Athos and Aramis. 

“ Ah ! ” said Groslow, “ on account of their opinions ? But 
; that is of no consequence. On the contrary,” he added, 

' laughing, “if they wish to see their Stuart, they shall see 
j him.” 

; “ Are we to pass the evening in the King’s room ? ” asked 

1 D’Artagnan. 

“Ko, but in the adjoining room; and as the door will re- 
main open, it will be exactly the same as if we stayed in his 
' room. Have you provided yourself with money ? — for I 
promise you that I mean to have a hell of a game.” 

“ Do you hear ? ” said D’Artagnan, making the gold clink 
in his pockets. 

“ Very good,” said Groslow, and he opened the chamber 
! door. “ I will show you the way, gentlemen,” he continued. 

[ And he went in first. 

D’Aratagnan turned to his friends. Porthos was as care- 
t less as if nothing out of the common way was going on ; Athos 
was pale, but resolved. Aramis was wiping the perspiration 
from his forehead with his handkerchief. 

The eight guards were at their posts : four were in the 
King's room, two at the door leading into it, and two at the 
outer door by which the four friends entered the first room. 


558 


TWENTY YEAES AFTER. 


At sight of their naked swords, Athos smiled ; so it was not 
going to be a butchery, but a combat. 

From this moment all his good-humour returned. 

Charles, who could be seen through the open door, was lying 
on his bed, completely dressed, but with a woollen coverlet 
thrown over him. 

At his bedside Parry was seated, reading a chapter from a 
Catholic Bible, in a low voice, yet sufficiently loud for Charles, 
who lay with his eyes closed, to hear. 

A coarse tallow candle, set on a dirty table, lighted up the 
King’s resigned face and the infinitely more agitated features 
of his attendant’s. 

From time to time Parry left off reading, thinking that his 
master was really asleep ; but then the King* Would open his 
eyes and say, with a smile : 

‘‘ Go on, my good Parry ; I am listening.” 

Groslow advanced to the door of the King’s chamber, pur- 
posely put on his hat again, though he had removed it to 
receive his guests, looked with contempt at this touching 
picture of an old servant reading the Bible to his imprisoned 
King, assured himself that eveiy man. was at his post, and 
then, turning to D’Artagnan, he looked triumphantly at the 
Frenchman, as if to demand an eulogy on his skill. 

“ Excellent,” said the Gascon. Cap de Diou ! you will 
make a distinguished general.” 

“ And do you think,” said Groslow, ‘‘ that the Stuart will 
have any chance of escape when I am on duty ? ” 

Certainly not,” replied D’Artagnan, •• unless friends should 
be showered upon him from heaven.” 

Groslow’s face grew radiant. 

As Charles Stuart had kept his eyes constantly closed dur- 
ing this scene, it was impossible to say whether he had or had 
not perceived the Puritan captain’s insolenc'e. But in spite 
of himself, when the clear accentuated tone of D’Artagnan’s 
voice reached his ear, his eyelids opened. Parry, on his part, 
started and discontinued his reading. 

Why do you leave off ? ” said the King ; continue, my . 
good Parry, unless indeed you are fatigued.” 

‘‘No, Sire,” said the valet. 

And he resumed his reading. 

A covered table was prepared in the first room, and on this 
were two lighted candles, cards, two dice-boxes, and dice. 


THE GAME OF LANSQUENET. 


559 


Gentlemen,’’ said Groslow, be seated, I beg of you. I 
will sit opposite Stuart, whom I so much like to see, especially 
where he now is ; you, M. d’Artagnan, opposite me.” 

Athos coloured with anger, and D’Artagnan frowned at 
him. 

“ That ’s it,” said D’Artagnan. « You, Monsieur le Comte 
de la Fère, on the right of Monsieur Groslow ; you. Monsieur 
le Chevalier d’Herblay, on his left ; and you, Du Vallon, near 
]iie. You back nie, and those gentlemen back M. Groslow.” 

By this arrangement D’Artagnan had Porthos on his left, 
and he spoke to him by his knee ; while opposite to him were 
Athos and Aramis, whom he governed by his look. 

When the Comte de la Père and the Chevalier d’Herblay 
were mentioned, Charles again opened his eyes, and could not 
refrain from raising his noble head and embracing in one look 
all the actors in that scene. 

At the same moment Parry turned over some leaves of the 
Bible, and read in a loud voice this verse of Jeremiah : , 

God said, Hear the words of the prophets, My servants, 
whom I have sent to you, and whom I have given you.’’^ 

The four friends exchanged a look. The words that Parry 
had just read indicated that the King attributed their pres- 
ence to the right motive. 

The eyes of D’Artagnan and his companions sparkled with 

joy. 

You asked me, just now, whether I was in cash,” said 
D’Artagnan, putting twenty pistoles on the table. 

Yes,” said Groslow. 

Well, then, in return I tell you to guard your treasure 
well, my dear Monsieur Groslow, for I promise you that we 
shall not leave the room without carrying it off from you.” 

It shall not be without my defending it,” said Groslow. 

So much the better,” said D’Artagnan. A fair fight, my 
dear captain, a fair fight ! You know — or perhaps you do not 
know — that is all we want.” 

Ah ! I know well enough,” said Groslow, bursting into a 
horse laugh, ^Hhat you Frenchmen are always looking after 
sores and bumps.” 

Charles had heard and comprehended all this ; a slight colour 
mounted to his cheeks. The soldiers who guarded him saw 
him gradually stretch out his wearied limbs, and, under the 
pretence of excessive heat produced by a red-hot stove, throw 


560 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


off the Scotch coverlet under which, as we have said, he was 
lying completely attired. 

Athos and Aramis started with joy on perceiving that the 
King was dressed. 

The game began. This evening the luck had turned, and 
was in favour of Groslow ; he kept all and gained all. Thus 
a hundred pistoles passed from one side of the table to the 
other. Groslow was in the highest spirits. 

Porthos, who had lost the fifty pistoles he had gained the 
previous evening, and thirty besides, was very cross, and 
questioned D’Artagnan, by pressing his knee, as if to ask him 
whether it was not time to begin another kind of game. 
Athos and Aramis also looked at him from time to time with 
a scrutinizing glance ; but he remained perfectly unmoved. 

It struck ten o’clock. The round was heard passing. 

How many rounds do you make of this kind ? ” asked 
H’Artagnan, drawing some more pistoles torn his pocket. 

Five,” answered Groslow. One every two hours.” 

Good,” said D’Artagnan. It is prudent.” 

And he cast a glance at Athos and Aramis. 

The steps of the patrol were heard retreating. 

D’Artagnan now for the first time answered Porthos’s press- 
ure of the knee by a similar one. 

In the meantime the soldiers, though their orders were to 
remain in the King’s room, were attracted by the play and 
by the sight of gold, so fascinating to all men, and had 
gradually approached the door, and there, standing on tip- 
toes, were looking over the shoulders of D’Artagnan and 
Porthos. The two at the other door had also drawn near, 
thus favouring the designs of the four friends, who much 
preferred having them near at hand to being obliged to run 
after them into different parts of the room. The two sen- 
tinels at the outer door had their swords drawn, but they 
were leaning on theni as they watched the players. 

As the moment approached, Athos appeared to become calm ; 
his white, aristocratic hands kept fingering the louis, which he 
doubled up and bent back as if they had been made of tin. 
Aramis, less master of his feelings, was continually putting his 
hands into his breast ; while Porthos, irritated by his losses, 
knocked D’Artagnan’s knee as if he would fracture it. 

D’Artagnan turned round, looking in a natural way behind 
him, and saw Parry standing between two of the soldiers, and 


THE GAME OF LANSQUENET. 


561 


Charles leaning on his elbow, with his hands clasped, and 
apparently addressing a fervent prayer to God. D’Artagnan 
perceived that the time was come, that every one was at his 
post, and that they were only waiting for the words “ at last’’ 
which, it will be remembered, were to serve as the signal. 

He threw a preparatory glance at Athos and Aramis ; and 
both of them gently pushed back their chairs to have free 
liberty of action. 

He gave Porthos another touch on the knee, whereupon 
Porthos arose as if to stretch his legs, only, in rising, he made 
himself certain that his sword would easily leave its scabbard. 

Sacrebleu ! ” cried D’Artagnan ; “ twenty more pistoles 
lost ! Peally, Captain Groslow, you have extraordinary luck ; 
it never can last.” 

And he drew twenty more pistoles from his pocket. 

A last throw, captain ; these twenty pistoles on one last 
throw.” 

“ Done for twenty pistoles ! ” said Groslow. 

And he turned two cards in the usual manner — a king for 
D’Artagnan and an ace for himself. 

“ A king,” said D’Artagnan ; “ it is a good omen. Master 
Groslow,” he added, look out for the King.” 

And in spite of his command over himself there was a 
strange quivering in his voice that made his partner start. 

Groslow began to turn the cards one after the other. If he 
turned an ace first, he had won ; if he turned a king, he had lost. 

He turned a king. 

At last I ” said D’Artagnan. 

At these words Athos and Aramis rose up; Porthos drew 
back a step. 

Poignards and swords were just going to flash out, when 
suddenly the door opened, and Harrison made his appearance 
on the threshold, accompanied by a man enveloped in a cloak. 

Behind this man the muskets of five or six soldiers were 
seen glittering. 

Groslow arose in great haste, ashamed of being surprised 
in the midst of wine, cards, and dice. But Harrison took no 
notice whatever of him, and entered the King’s room, followed 
by his companions. 

“ Charles Stuart,” said he, an order has arrived to conduct 
you to London without halting night or day ; prepare, therefore, 
to depart instantaneously.” 


562 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


And from whom has this order come ? ’’ asked the King. 

From General Oliver Cromwell ? 

“ Yes,” said Harrison, and here is Mr. Mordaunt, who has 
just brought it, and is charged with its execution.” 

“ Mordaunt !” muttered the four friends, looking at one 
another. 

D’Artagnan quietly swept from the table all the money 
that he and Porthos had lost, and engulfed it in his enormous 
pocket. Athos and Aramis drew themselves up behind him. 
At this movement Mordaunt turned round, recognised them, 
and uttered an exclamation of savage delight. 

‘‘ I believe that we are caught,” said D’Artagnan to his 
friends, in a low voice. 

Hot yet,” said Porthos. 

Colonel ! Colonel ! ” cried Mordaunt, surround the room ! 
You are betrayed ! These four Frenchmen escaped from New- 
castle, and doubtless want to carry off the King. Arrest 
them ! ” 

‘‘Ah, young man!” said D’Artagnan, drawing his sword, 
“ such an order is more easily given than executed.” 

Then giving a terrible circular flourish with his sword : 
“ Eetreat, my friends ! ” he exclaimed — “ retreat ! ”, 

At the same time he darted to the door, and overthrew the 
two soldiers who guarded it, before they had time to cock their 
muskets. Athos and Aramis followed him, Porthos bringing up 
the rear ; and before the soldiers, officers, and colonel had time 
to recover from their consternation they were in the street. 

“ Fire ! ” cried Mordaunt ; “ fire on them ! ” 

Two or three musket-shots were fired, but they had no 
further effect than that of disclosing the four fugitives just 
turning the corner of the street, safe and sound. 

The horses were at the ai)pointed place, and the valets had 
only to throw the bridles to their masters, who vaulted into 
the saddle with the lightness of consummate horsemen. 

“ Forward ! ” said D’Artagnan, “ and spur on ! Be steady.” 

They galloped on in this manner, following D’Artagnan, 
and taking the same road by which they had entered in the 
evening ; that is to say, the direction of Scotland. The little 
town had neither walls nor gates, and they left it without 
obstruction. 

At about fifty paces from the last house D’Artagnan stopped 
short. 


LONDON. 


563 


Halt ! ’’ said he. 

“ What do you mean by ‘ ha’ ’ ? ” inquired Porthos. At 
full speed, you mean to say.’’ 

“ Not at all,” said D’Artagnan. This time they will pur- 
sue us ; so let them leave the town and run after us on the 
road to Scotland ; and when we have seen them galloping past 
us, we will set off in the opposite direction.” 

A small rivulet crossed the road a little farther on, and over 
this stream a bridge was thrown. H'Artagnan led his horse 
under the arch of the bridge ; his friends followed him. 

They had not been there ten minutes before they heard the 
rapid gallop of a troop of horsemen. In five minutes more 
this troop had passed over their heads, little imagining that 
they had been separated from those they sought only by the 
thickness of the arch of the bridge. 


CHAPTER LXVI. 

LONDON. 

When the noise of the horses was lost in the distance, 
D’Artagnan regained the bank of the stream and began to 
make his way across the plain, directing his course as well as 
he could toward London. His three friends followed him in 
silence, until, by means of a large circuit, they had left the 
town far behind them. 

‘‘ This time,” said D’Artagnan, when at length he thought 
that they were far enough from the point of their departure to 
change from a gallop to a trot, ‘‘ 1 positively think that all is 
lost, and that the best thing we can do is to return to France. 
What do you say to this proposition, Athos ? Do you not think 
it reasonable ? ” 

Yes, my dear friend,” replied Athos ; but you said one 
thing the other day that was more than reasonable — it was a 
noble and generous sentiment. You said : ^ We will die here.’ 
I repeat your very words.” 

Oh,” said Porthos, death is nothing. Death ought not to 
disturb us, since we know not what it is ; but it is the idea of 
defeat that torments me. By the manner in which things 
turn out, I can perceive that we must fight London, the prov- 


564 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


inces, all England ; and really we cannot fail to be beaten at 
last.’^ 

We ought to see the end of this great tragedy/’ said Athos. 

Whatever it may be, let us not leave England till after the 
catastrophe. Are you of my opinion, Aramis ? ” 

Entirely so, my dear Count. Besides, I confess that I 
should not be sorry to see this Mordaunt again. It seems to 
me that we have an account to settle with him ; and it is not 
our custom to leave a country without paying debts of this 
kind.” 

Ah ! that is another thing,” said D’Artagnan ; “ now yon 
have given a plausible reason. I confess that to find Mor- 
daunt I would remain a year in London, if necessary. Only 
let us lodge with some trusty man, and so as not to awaken 
suspicion ; for Cromwell will certainly inquire after us, and, as 
far as I can judge, M. Cromwell is no joker. Athos, do 
you know, in all the city, an hotel where we can find clean 
sheets, roast beef reasonably cooked, and wine that is not 
made of hops or gin ? ” 

I think that I know just what you wish,” replied Athos. 

De Winter took us to the house of a man who, he said, was 
an old Spaniard, naturalized as an Englishman by the guineas 
of his new countrymen. What do you say to it, Aramis ? ” 
The plan of establishing ourselves at the house of Senor 
Perez appears to me most reasonable,” said Aramis. I at 
once adopt it. We will invoke the memory of poor De 
Winter, for whom he appeared to have a great veneration ; 
we will tell him that we are come as men of leisure, to see all 
that is going on ; we will each of us spend a guinea a day at 
his housé ; and I believe that by means of these precautions 
we may remain in security.” 

“ But you forget one precaution, Aramis, and that a very 
material one.” 

“ What is that ? ” 

To chp.nge our clothes.” 

Bah ! ” said Porthos, why should we do so, when we are 
so much at our ease in these ? ” 

So as not to be discovered,” said D’Artagnan. “ Our dress 
has a cut and a uniformity of colour that at first sight denote 
the Frenchman. Now, I am not so devoted to the cut of my 
doublet or the colour of my breeches as to run the risk of 
being hanged at Tyburn, or sent to take a turn in the Indies, 


LONDON. 


565 


out of affection for them ; so I will go and buy me a chest- 
nut-coloured dress. I have remarked that all these imbecile 
Puritans are passionately fond of that colour.” 

But can you find your man ? ” asked Aramis. 

“Yes, certainly,” replied Athos. “He lived at Bedford’s 
Tavern, Greenhall Street; besides, I could go through the city 
with my eyes shut.” 

“ I wish that we were already there,” said D’Artagnan ; 
“ and my opinion is that we ought to reach London before 
daylight, even if we foundered our horses.” 

“ Come along, then,” said Athos ; “ for if I am right in my 
calculations we cannot be more than eight or ten leagues 
from it.” 

The friends pushed forward, and reached London about five 
in the morning. At the gate by which they entered, they 
were stopped ; but Athos affirmed, in excellent English, that 
they had been sent forward by Colonel Harrison, to inform his 
•colleague, Mr. Pride, of the King’s speedy arrival. This led 
to some questions respecting the King’s capture, of which 
Athos gave such precise particulars that any suspicions by 
the guards entertained must have been completely dissipated. 
So the four friends were admitted into the city with many 
Puritan congratulations. 

Athos had spoken truly. He went straight to Bedford’s 
Tavern, and made himself known to the landlord, who was so 
delighted on finding him return with such a large and splendid 
party that he immediately ordered his best rooms to be pre- 
pared for them. 

Although daylight had not yet appeared, our four travellers, 
on reaching London, found the whole town in commotion. 
The report that the King was approaching the metropolis, in 
Colonel Harrison’s custody, had been circulated the evening 
before, and many people had not even gone to bed, apprehen- 
sive that the Stuart, as they called him, might arrive during 
the night, without their being present to witness his entrance. 

The project of changing their clothes had been adopted, you 
will remember, unanimously, save for a slight opposition from 
Porthos. So they proceeded to put it into execution. Their 
landlord sent for clothes of every description, as if he wished 
to replenish his wardrobe. Athos chose a dark suit that gave 
him the appearance of an honest middle-class citizen ; Aramis, 
who did not wish to give up his sword, selected dark-green 


666 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


clothes of military cut ; Porthos was seduced by a red doublet 
and green breeches ; while D’Artagnan, whose colour had 
been before settled, had only to determine the shade, and in 
the chestnut-coloured suit which he fancied looked exactly 
like a retired grocer. 

Grimand and Mousqueton, not being in livery, were suffi- 
ciently disguised. Besides, Grimand was a very good speci- 
men of the calm, dry, stiff, and cautious Englishman ; Mousque- 
ton that of the portly, bloated, indolent Englishman. 

‘^Now,” said D’Artagnan, ^Get us proceed to the principal 
point — let us cut our hair, that we may not be insulted by 
the populace. Being no longer gentlemen by our swords, let 
us be Puritans by our head-dress. It is, as you are aware, 
the important point distinguishing the Covenanter from the 
Cavalier.’^ 

On this important point, however, D’Artagnan found Aramis 
very stubborn. He wished, at all hazards, to retain his hair, 
which was very handsome, and of which he took the greatest 
care ; and it was necessary for Athos, to whom all such things 
were indifferent, to set him the example. Porthos, without 
hesitation, abandoned his headpiece to Mousqueton, who merci- 
lessly sheared away his thick, strong locks. D’Artagnan cut 
for himself a fantastic head, which was not a bad resemblance 
to the medals of the time of Francis 1. or Charles IX. 

We are hideous,” said Athos. 

It appears to me that we smack frightfully of Puritanism,” 
said Aramis. 

My head is cold,” said Porthos. 

‘^I feel a great inclination to preach,” said D’Artagnan. 

How,” said Athos, ‘‘ as we should not know ourselves, and ^ 
consequently have no fear of being recognised by others, let 
us go and witness the King’s entrance. If he has travelled 
all night he cannot now be far from London.” 

In fact, the four friends had not been out mingling with the 
crowd more than two hours before loud cries and a violent 
movement announced Charles’s arrival. A coach had been • 
sent to meet him, and when far distant the gigantic Porthos, 
who overtopped every one by a head, announced that he saw 
the cavalcade approaching. D’Artagnan raised himself on his 
toes, while Athos and Aramis listened to catch the general 
opinions of the populace. The coach passed, and D’Artagnan 
perceived Harrison at one door and Mord aunt at the other. 


LONDON. 


567 


The people, whose sentiments Athos and Aramis were anxious 
I to learn, sent forth violent imprecations against Charles, 
j Athos returned in utter despair. 

! My dear,^’ said D’Artagnan, you distress yourself in vain, 
! and I protest that I consider the position of affairs very 
; desperate. For my part, I attach myself to the cause only 
; for your sake, and from a certain artistic interest in the poli- 
tics of it, à la Mousquetaire. I think it would be an exceed- 
ingly pleasant thing to snatch their prey from these bawlers, 
and to hold them up to derision. I will think about it.’’ 

On the morrow, while looking out of his window, which 
faced the most populous parts of the city, Athos heard the 
Parliamentary decree proclaimed that ordered the ex-King 
Charles I. to be placed at the bar on a charge of treason and 
abuse of power. 

D’Artagnan was near him ; Aramis was looking over a map ; 
Porthos was absorbed in the last delicacies of a savoury break- 
fast. 

The Parliament ! ” exclaimed Athos. It is impossible 
I that the Parliament can have passed such a bill.” 

I Listen,” said D’Artagnan. I understand English very 
I little, but as English is nothing but French badly pronounced, 
this is what I hear : ^ Parliamenfs Bill,’’ which is the same as 
hill du 'parlement, or God damn me, as they say here ! ” 

At this moment the landlord came in. Athos beckoned to 
him to draw near. 

“ Has the Parliament passed this bill ? ” asked Athos, in 
English. 

Yes, my Lord, — the purified Parliament.” 

L What do you mean by that ? Are there two Parliaments ? ” 

I “ My friend,” interrupted D’Artagnan, as I do not under- 
i stand English well, and as we all understand Spanish, do us the 
i kindness to talk with us in that language, which is your own, 
and which, consequently, you must speak with pleasure when 
you find an opportunity.” 

Ah, excellent ! ” said Aramis. 

Porthos said nothing, as all his attention, as we have said, 
was concentrated on a cutlet, which he was engaged in despoil- 
ing of its most succulent parts. 

“ What did you ask ? ” said the host, in Spanish. 

“ I asked,” said Athos, in the same language, if there were 
two Parliaments — one pure and the other corrupt ? ” 


568 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


‘‘ Oh, how strange it is ! ’’ said Porthos, slowly raising his 
head and looking at the friends with an air of astonish- 
ment. I understand English now — I comprehend what 
you say ! ’’ 

It is because we are speaking Spanish, my dear friend,” 
said Athos, with his usual coolness. 

Oh, diable ! ” said Porthos, I am sorry for it ; it would 
have given me one more language.” 

When I say the pure Parliament, senor,” replied the host, 
I speak of that which Colonel Pride has purified.” 

Well, really,” said D’Artagnan, “ these men are mighty 
ingenious. I must give M. Mazarin and the coadjutor a hint 
about this on my return to France. The one will purify in the 
name of the Court, and the other in the name of the people, 
so that there will no longer be any Parliament at âll.” 

And who is this Colonel Pride ? asked Araniis, and 
Avhat method has he taken to purify the Parliament ? ” 

“ Colonel Pride,” answered the Spaniard, is a former 
carter, a man of considerable cleverness, who remarked one thing 
while driving his wagon : this was, that when he met with a 
stone on the road it was easier work to remove it than to make 
his wheels pass over it. Now, of the two hundred and fifty- 
one members who composed the Parliament, a hundred and 
ninety-one annoyed him, and might have overturned his polit- 
ical wagon. So he took them, as he formerly ‘took the stones, 
and threw them out of the Chamber.” 

Very pretty ! ” said P’Artagnan, who, himself a clever man, 
always admired it in another person. 

And were all these ejected members followers of the 
Stuart ? ” asked Athos. 

Certainly, senor ; and you understand that they would have 
saved the King. ” 

Por Dios ! ” said Porthos majestically, they constituted 
the majority.” 

And do you think that he will consent to appear before 
such a tribunal ? ” said Aramis. 

‘‘ He must,” replied the Spaniard. Should he refuse, the 
people would compel him.” 

Thank you. Master Perez,” said Athos ; “ I am now suffi- 
(dently instructed.” 

Do you, at last, begin to believe that the cause is lost, 
Athos,” said D’Artagnan, and that, with the Harrisons, 


LONDON. 


569 


Joyces, Prides, and Cromwells against us, we shall never ^et 
to the top ? 

The King will be given up to the tribunal,’’ said Athos ; 

but even the silence of his partisans proves that some plot 
is hatching.” 

D’Artagnan shrugged his shoulders. 

I But,” said Aramis, if they dare to condemn their King, 
' they will sentence him to banishment or imprisonment, that is 
all.” 

D’Artagnan whistled with some little appearance of incre- 
dulity. 

We shall see,” said Athos, for we shall witness the trial, 
li I presume.” 

“ You will not have long to wait,” said the host, “ for it 
i begins to-morrow.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Athos, then the indictment was pre- 
I pared before the King was taken ? ” 

Doubtless it was framed on the very day that the King 
was bought ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

You know,” replied Aramis, that it was our friend Mor- 
daunt who made, if not the actual bargain, at any rate the first 
overtures in this little transaction.” 

You know,” said D’Artagnan, that wherever he may come 
under my hand I mean to kill that M. Mordaunt.” 

“ Fie, then ! ” said Athos ; such a wretch as that ! ” 

But it is precisely because he is a wretch that I shall kill 
him,” rejoined D’Artagnan. “ Ah ! dear friend, I yield sufii- 
ciently to your wishes to make you indulgent to mine. Besides, 
once for all, whether it pleases you or not, I declare that this 
Mordaunt shall only be killed by me.” 

And by me,” said Porthos. 

And by me,” said Aramis. 

Touching unanimity ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan, and which 
exactly suits good bourgeois like ourselves. Come, let us take 
a turn through the town. Mordaunt himself would not know 
us four yards off in this fog. Come, let us go and drink a 
little fog.” 

Yes,” said Porthos, “ it will be a change from beer.” 

And the four friends went out to take, as is commonly said, 
the air of the country. 


570 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


CHAPTER LXVII. 

THE TRIAL. 

The next day a numerous guard conducted Charles I. before 
the high tribunal which was to try him. 

The crowd took possession of the streets and houses adjoin- 
ing the palace ; at the very outset, the progress of the four 
friends was obstructed by the almost insurmountable obstacle 
of this living wall. Some of the common people, tough and 
surly, pushed Aramis so rudely that Porthos raised his formid- 
able fist and let it fall upon a baker’s mealy face, which im- ' 
mediately changed its colour and was covered with blood, ; 
squashed, as it was, like a bunch of ripe grapes. This caused 
a commotion ; three men rushed at Porthos ; but Athos got rid ; 
of one and D’Artagnan of another, while Porthos threw the 
third over his head. | 

Some Englishmen, who were lovers of the pugilistic art, ad- ^ 
mired the rapid and easy manner in which this manoeuvre had i 
been executed, and clapped their hands. So, instead of being J 
knocked down, as they began to fear they should be, Porthos | 
and his friends narrowly escaped being carried in triiimph ; 1 
but our four friends, who dreaded everything that might make 
them conspicuous, managed to escape the ovation. . Never- j 
theless, they gained one advantage by this herculean demon- | 
stration : the crowd at once opened a passage before them and 
they reached the palace. 

All London was crowding at the gallery doors, and they suc-, 
ceeded in doing What a moment before had seemed to them 
impossible. So when the four friends succeeded in penetrating ;| 
into one of them, they found the first three benches already 
occupied. This was no great loss for men who wished to avoid 
recognition. Accordingly they took their places, very well 
satisfied at having secured even these, though Porthos wanted 
to display his red doublet and green breeches, and lamented 
that he was not in the first row. 

The seats were arranged as in an amphitheatre, and from! 
their situation the four friends commanded all the assemblage. 
By chance they were exactly in the middle of the gallery' 
and directly opposite the seat that had been prepared for 
the King. - ^ ^ 


THE TRIAL. 


571 


About eleven o’clock in the morning the King appeared at 
the door of the hall. He entered surrounded by guards, but 
covered ; and with a calm air he cast a glance of confidence 
all around, as if he had come to preside over an assembly of 
his obedient subjects, and not to reply to the accusations of a 
rebellious Court. 

The judges, proud of having a King to humble, were evi- 
[ dently prepared to make use of the right that they had arro- 
j gated to themselves. Consequently an usher went to tell 
Charles that it was the custom for the accused to be uncovered 
in the presence of his judges. 

Charles, without answering, set his hat on more firmly and 
turned his head in another direction. Then, when the usher 
had retired, he sat down in the armchair prepared for him, 
ji opposite the president, tapping his boot with a slender stick 
! that he held in his hand. 

Parry, who accompanied him, stood behind him. 

D’Artagnan, instead of looking at all this ceremonial, was 
' observing Athos, whose countenance seemed to reflect all those 
I emotions which the King, from the great . power he exerted 
j over his feelings, managed to banish from his own. This agi- 
i tation of Athos, a man so cold and calm, alarmed D’Artagnan. 

I hope,” said he to him in a whisper, that you will take 
i a lesson from his Majesty, and not get us foolishly killed in 
; this cage.” 

I Do not disturb yourself,” said Athos. 

I Aha ! ” continued D’Artagnan, it appears as if they were 
I afraid of something ; for see, they are doubling the guards ; 

I before, they only had halberds, but now there are muskets. 

I There is something now for everybody — the halberds are for 
i the auditors on the floor, the muskets for us.” 

Thirty, forty, fifty, seventy men,” said Porthos, counting 
those who had just arrived. 

Eh ! ” said Aramis, you forget the officer, Porthos ; and 
yet I think that he is worth counting.” 

^^Oui-da!” exclaimed D’Artagnan. 

And he turned pale with anger, for he had discovered Mor- 
daunt, who, with his sword drawn, was leading the armed sol- 
diers behind the King ; that is to say, opposite the galleries. 

« Can he have discovered us ? ” continued D’Artagnan. “ In 
that case I would beat a retreat — I am not at all ambitious of 
having a particular mode of death imposed on me, and have a 


572 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


great desire to make my own choice in that respect. Now, I 
should not choose to be shot in a box.’’ 

^^No,” said Aramis, he has not seen us ; he sees only the 
King. Mordieu ! how the insolent rascal stares at him ! Can 
he hate him as much as he hates us ? ” 

Pardieu ! ” said Athos ; we only deprived him of his 
mother, but the King has despoiled him of his name and fort- 
une.” 

That is true,” said Aramis. But silence ; the president 
is speaking to the King.” 

In fact, at this moment, the president, Bradshaw, thus ad- 
dressed the accused monarch ; 

Stuart,” said he, “ listen to the roll-call of your judges, 
and make any observations to the Court that you may wish to 
make.” 

The King, as if these words had not been addressed to him, 
turned his head the other way. 

The president waited, but as there was no reply a moment’s 
silence followed. 

Of the hundred* and sixty-three members on the list, only 
seventy-three answered ; the others, unwilling to participate in 
such an act, had absented themselves. 

I proceed to roll-call,” said Bradshaw, without seeming to 
notice the absence of three-fifths of the assembly. 

And he began to name successively the members present and 
absent. Those present answered in a loud or gentle voice, 
according to the degree of confidence that each felt in his own 
opinion. A short silence always succeeded the names of the 
absent, which were repeated twice. 

Colonel Fairfax’s name came in its turn, and was followed 
by one of those moments of brief but solemn silence that an- 
nounced the absence of those members who did not wish to 
take a personal share in this trial. 

Colonel Fairfax ? ” repeated Bradshaw. 

“ Fairfax ? ” responded a mocking voice, the silvery tone 
of which denoted it to be a woman’s ; he has too much sense 
to be here.” 

These words, pronounced with that audacity which women 
derive from their weakness — a weakness that relieves them 
of all fears of vengeance — produced an immense burst of 
laughter. 

^ It is a woman’s voice I ” exclaimed Aramis. Ah, by my 


THE TRIAL. 


573 


faith, I would give a good deal to know if she is young and 
pretty.” 

And he mounted one of the seats to endeavour to see into 
the gallery whence the voice had issued. 

Upon my soul,” said Aram is, she is charming ! Just 
look, D’Artagnan ; everybody is looking at her ; and in spite 
of Bradshaw’s frown, she has not even turned pale.” 

It is Lady Fairfax herself,” said D’Artagnan. Do you 
not remember, Porthos, we saw her, with her husband, at 
General Cromwell’s ? ” 

In a short time the quiet, which had been interrupted by 
this strange episode, was restored, and the roll-call was re- 
sumed. 

These rascals will raise the sitting when they perceive that 
they are not sufficiently numerous,” said the Comte de la 
Fère. 

I You do not know them, Athos. Observe Mordaunt’s smile, 

! and see how he looks at the King. Is that the look of a man 
who fears that his victim will escape him ? Ko, no ! It is 
the look of gratified hatred — of revenge confident of satiating 
itself ! Ah ! cursed basilisk ! it will be a happy day for me 
when I cross something else besides a look with you ! ” 
i The King is really handsome,” said Porthos ; and see, 
i although he is a prisoner, how carefully he is dressed. The 
■ plume in his hat is worth at least fifty pistoles. Just look at 
' it, Aramis ! ” 

The list being finished, the speaker gave orders for the bill 
of indictment to be read. 

Athos turned pale ; he was again deceived in his expecta- 
tion. Although the judges were deficient in number, the trial 
was about to proceed ; so the King was condemned before- 
hand. 

told you so, Athos,” said D’Artagnan, shrugging his 
shoulders, but you are still incredulous. Kow pluck up 
your courage, and listen, not too angrily I beg of you, to the 
despicable horrors that yonder man in black is about to say to 
his King, with license and privilege.” 

In fact, never had more brutal accusations — never had 
more contemptible insults — never had a more cruel inquisi- 
tion dishonoured royal majesty. Before that time they had 
been content merely to assassinate kings ; at least, it was only 
on their dead bodies that insults were lavished. 


574 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Charles listened to the accuser’s speech with great atten< 
tion, disregarding the insults, dwelling on the complaints ; and 
when the hatred boiled over too much — when the accuser 
made himself the executioner by anticipation — he answered 
by a smile of contempt. It was, after all, a terrible instru- 
ment, in which the unfortunate King found all his imprudences 
changed into wilful deeds — his errors transformed to crimes. 

D’Artagnan, who permitted all this torrent of abuse to roll 
along with a feeling of disdain that it merited, fixed his judi- 
cial mind on some of the accuser’s real charges. 

“ The fact is,” said he, if imprudence and carelessness are 
punishable, this poor King deserves some penalty. But it 
seems to me that what he now suffers is severe enough.” 

After all,” replied Aramis, the punishment should not fall 
on the King, but on his ministers ; since the fundamental law 
of the English constitution is, that the King can do no wrong.’’' 

For my part,” thought Porthos, looking at Mordaunt and 
concerned with him alone, ‘^if it were not for disturbing the 
gravity of the occasion, I would jump down from the gallery, 
and in three bounds I would reach Mordaunt and choke him to 
death. I would then take him by the feet, and knock down 
all those wretched Musketeers, who are mere caricatures of the 
French Musketeers ; and in the meantime D’Artagnan, who is 
full of ready wit, would perhaps find some means of saving 
the King. I really must talk to him a])out it.” 

Athos, with fire in his eyes and clenched fists, his lips 
bloody from biting them, was sitting foaming with rage at that 
ceaseless parliamentary insult and the King’s unwearying for- 
bearance ; his iron arm and indomitable heart were changed 
into a trembling hand and a shuddering frame. 

At this moment the accuser finished his speech with these 
words : 

‘‘The present accusation is brought forward by us in the 
name of the English people.” 

There was a murmur in the galleries at these words ; and 
another voice, not a woman’s, but a man’s, strong and furious, 
thundered behind D’Artagnan : 

“ You lie ! and nine-tenths of the people of England are 
horrified at w'hat you say ! ” 

This voice was that of Athos, who, utterly carried away by 
his feelings, and standing up, with his hand extended, thus 
addressed the public accuser. 


THE TRIAL. 


575 


[ At this apostrophe, King, judges, spectators, all turned their 
! eyes to the gallery where the four friends were. Mordaunt 
i did the same, and recognised Athos, around whom his three 
friends were standing, pale and threatening. His eyes flashed 
with joy; he had once more discovered those to whose detec- 
tion and death he had consecrated his life. A furious gesture 
, collected twenty of his Musketeers around him, and, pointing 
to the gallery where he saw his enemies : 

Fire on that gallery ! he exclaimed. 

! But quick as thought D’Artagnan, seizing Athos round the 
: middle, and Porthos, dragging Aramis with him, leaped down 
from the benches and darted into the passage, hastily descended 
the stairs, and were speedily lost amid the crowd ; while, in 
I the interior of the hall, the lowered muskets threatened three 
; thousand spectators, whose noisy fears and cries for mercy 
i arrested the orders that had been given for massacre. 

Charles had also recognised the four Frenchmen. He placed 
one hand on his heart to stay its beatings, and the other over 
; his eyes that he might not see the murder of his faithful friends. 

Mordaunt, pale and trembling with rage, rushed out of the 
hall, sword in hand, with ten Halberdiers, searched the crowd, 
interrogating and breathing vengeance ; then he returned, 
without having discovered those he sought. 

The confusion was indescribable. More than half an hour 
’ elapsed before any one could be heard. The judges thought 
j every gallery would thunder forth its voice. The galleries 
still saw the muskets pointed at them, and, divided between 
fear and curiosity, remained disturbed and agitated. 

At length calm was restored. 

What have you to say in your defence ? said Bradshaw 
to the King. 

Then, in the accent of a judge and not of a criminal, and 
with his hat still on his head, he arose, without any indication 
of humility, but with an air of command : 

‘^Before questioning me,’’ said Charles, ‘^answer me. At 
Newcastle I was free, and there I concluded a treaty with the 
Parliament. Instead of observing your part of that treaty, as 
I performed mine, you purchased me from the Scots — not for 
much, I know, and that does credit to the economy of your 
Government. But, because you paid the price of a slave for 
me, do you imagine that I have ceased to be your King ? No. 
To answer you would be to acknowledge that this is the case. 


576 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


So then I will not answer you until you have established your 
right to question me. To answer would be to acknowledge you 
as my judges ; and I only recognise you as my executioners.’^ 

And in the midst of deathlike silence, Charles, calm, 
haughty, and with his head still covered, resumed his seat. 

“ Oh, that my Frenchmen were there ! ” murmured the King 
proudly, as he turned toward the gallery, where they had ap- 
peared for an instant ; “ they would see that their friend was 
worthy of being defended while living and lamented when 
dead.” 

But in vain did he seek to penetrate into the depths of the 
crowd, and ask as it were of God the sweet consolation of 
their presence ; he discovered nothing but dull and timid faces 
— he felt that he was contending with hatred and ferocity. 

^^Well, then,” said the president, seeing that Charles was 
thoroughly determined to be silent, so be it ; we will judge 
you in spite of your silence. You are accused of treason, of 
abuse of power, and of murder. The witnesses will be trust- 
worthy. Go, then; the next sitting shall effect what you 
refuse to agree to in this.” 

Charles arose, and turning to Parry, whom he saw pale, 
with face and forehead damp with perspiration : 

Well now, my good Parry, what is the matter ? ” said he. 

What can agitate you so ? ” 

Oh, Sire ! ” said Parry, with tears in his eyes, and in a 
supplicating voice, “ Sire, on leaving the hall, do not look to 
the left ! ” 

And why not. Parry ? ” 

Do not look, I beseech your Majesty ! ” 

But what is the matter ? Speak,” said Charles, trying to 
look beyond the hedge of soldiers stationed behind him. 

“ It is — but you will not look, will you. Sire ? — they have 
laid on a table the axe with which they execute criminals. 
’ T is a hideous sight ; do not look at it. Sire, I beseech you ! ” 
The fools ! ” said Charles ; do they think that I am as 
cowardly as themselves ? You did well to tell me of this. 
Thank you. Parry.” 

And the King left the hall, following his guards. 

To the left of the door there actually gleamed with an 
ominous light, reflected from the red cloth on which it rested, 
the white axe with its long handle polished by the executioner’s 
hands. 


THE TRIAL. 


577 


f As he came opposite to it Charles stopped, and turning 
i with a smile : 

Aha ! ” said he, laughing, the axe ! An ingenious bug- 
i bear, worthy of those who know not what it is to be a 
: gentleman. Thou dost not frighten me, thou fatal axe,” he 
\ continued, striking it with the slender stick he held in his 
I hand, “ and I strike thee, waiting patiently, and like a Chris- 
1 tian, until thou shalt return the blow.” 

And shrugging his shoulders with royal disdain, he con- 
tinued on his way ; leaving those quite stupefied who had 
pressed round the table to see what effect the sight of that 
axe, which was soon to separate his head from his body, would 
, have on the King’s face. 

Really,” said the King to Parry, God forgive me, but 
these people seem to take me for some mere Indian cotton 
merchant, and not for a gentleman accustomed to see the steel 
flash. Do they imagine that I am not equal to a butcher ? ” 

As he said these words he reached the door. A vast con- 
course of people had collected, and as they had been unable to 
gain admission to the galleries, they were resolved at least to 
see the end of the spectacle, the most interesting part of which 
they had lost. This innumerable multitude, whose ranks were 
thickly sprinkled with threatening faces, drew a slight sigh 
from the King. 

What a throng ! ” he said to himself ; and not one friend 
among them all !” 

Whilst mentally uttering these words of doubt and despond- 
ency, a voice, quite close to him, as if responding to his 
thoughts, said : 

God bless his fallen Majest}" !” 

The King turned his head quickly, with tears in his eyes 
and his heart. 

It was an old soldier of his Guards, who could not bear to 
see his captive King pass so near him without paying him his 
last homage. 

But instantly the unlucky wretch was nearly stunned by 
blows from sword-hilts. 

Among those who struck him the King perceived Captain 
Groslow. 

Alas ! ” said Charles, a severe punishment for a very 
slight offence.” 

Then, with his heart overflowing, he continued on his way j 


578 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


but be had not proceeded a hundred paces before a furious 
creature, leaning forward between two soldiers, spat in the 
King’s face, as the infamous and accused Jew spat in the face 
of Jesus of Nazareth. 

Loud bursts of laughter, mingled with hoarse murmurs, 
followed. The crowd separated, again rushed together, waved 
to and fro like a tempestuous sea, and the King fancied that 
he saw the flash of Athos’s eye, in the midst of this living 
surge. 

Charles wiped his face, and said, with a melancholy smile : 

The poor fellow ! — for half a crown he would do the 
same to his father.” 

The King was not mistaken. He had indeed seen Athos 
and his friends, who had again mingled with the crowd, and 
were following the royal martyr with a last look. 

When the soldier saluted Charles, Athos’s heart melted with 
joy ; and when the unfortunate man recovered his senses, he 
found ten guineas in his pocket, which the French gentleman 
had slipped into it. But when the cowardly scoffer spat in 
the face of the royal prisoner, Athos put his hand to his 
dagger. 

D’Artagnan held back his hand, and said in a hoarse voice : 

Wait ! ” 

Never had D’Artagnan addressed either the Comte de la Fère 
or Athos in such a way ! 

Athos paused. 

D’Artagnan put his arm into Athos’s, made a sign to Porthos 
and Aramis not to lose sight of them, and placed himself 
behind the large-armed man, who was still laughing at his 
dastardly joke, and whom some others, as violent as himself, 
were congratulating. 

This man walked toward the City. D’Artagnan, still lean- 
ing on Athos’s arm, followed him, making a sign to Porthos 
and Aramis to keep behind them. 

The* man, who seemed to be a butcher’s assistant, with two 
companions went down a small, steep, solitary street that led 
to the river. 

D’Artagnan had now let go Athos’s arm, and was walking 
just behind the man who had insulted the King. 

As they came near the river, the three men perceived that 
they were followed. They stopped and, looking insolently at 
the Frenchmen, exchanged some jokes among themselves. 


THE TRIAL. 


•^ 7 '' 

u , 

I do not understand English, Athos,” said D’Artagnan ; 

but you do, and must therefore be my interpreter.” 

And at these words, quickening his pace, he passed the three 
men ; but turning almost immediately, he went up to the 
butcher, who stopped, and touching him on the breast with the 
tip of his forefinger : 

“ Repeat what I say to him, Athos,” he said to his friend : 

You have behaved like a coward; you have insulted a de- 
fenceless man ; you have polluted the face of your King, and 
you shall die ! ” 

Athos, pale as a ghost, translated these strange words to the 
man, who, seeing the sinister preparations and D’Artagnan’s 
terrible eyes, was about to defend himself. Aramis at this 
moment put his hand to his sword. 

No, not the sword — not the sword!” said D’Artagnan; 
‘Hhe sword is for gentlemen; ” and seizing the butcher by the 
throat : ‘‘ Porthos,” said D’Artagnan, crush this wretch for 
me with one blow of your fist.” 

Porthos raised his terrible arm, made it whistle through the 
air like a sling, and the heavy mass fell with a dull thud on 
the coward’s skull and broke it. 

The man fell as an ox falls under the hammer. 

His companions tried to call out, tried to flee, but their 
voices failed and their trembling limbs gave way. 

Tell them this also, Athos,” said D’Artagnan : “ Thus shall 
die all those who forget that a prisoner is sacred ; that a cap- 
tive king is doubly the representative of the Almighty.” 

Athos repeated D’Artagnan’s words. 

The two men, in mute terror and with bristling hair, gazed 
at their companion’s body, which was swimming in streams of 
black blood. 

Then, recovering both their voices and their strength, they 
fled with a scream, clasping their hands together. 

Justice is satisfied,” said Porthos, wiping his forehead. 

And now,” said D’Artagnan to Athos, “ do not doubt me, 
and be perfectly easy in your mind. I take on myself every- 
thing concerning the King.” 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


"^80 


CHAPTER LXVIII. 

WHITEHALL. 

The Parliament, as was easily foreseen, condemned Charles 
Stuart to death. Political trials are always vain formalities ; 
for the very passions that produce the accusation also lead to 
the condemnation. Such is the terrible logic of revolutions. 

Although our friends expected this result, yet it overwhelmed 
them with sorrow. D’Artagnan, whose mind was never so full 
of resources as in extreme cases, swore afresh that he would 
try all possible means to prevent the catastrophe of this bloody 
tragedy. But by what means ? They were as yet but dimly 
perceptible to his mind. Everything must depend upon cir- 
cumstances ; and until a complete plan could be arranged, it 
was necessary, at all hazards, in order to gain time, to place 
some obstacle in the way of the execution taking place on the 
following day, as had been resolved upon by the judges. The 
only apparent method was to remove the London executioner. 

The executioner once away, the sentence could not be carried 
into effect. Doubtless one would be procured from the nearest 
provincial town ; but even this would gain at least one day, 
and one day in such a case might possibly be salvation. D’Ar- 
tagnan undertook this more than difficult task. 

Another point, not less essential, was to apprise Charles 
Stuart that an attempt would be made to rescue him, in order 
that he might, as far as he could, second the efforts of his 
friends, or, at any rate, might do nothing to impede them, i 
Aramis undertook this perilous task. The King had requested j 
that Bishop Juxon might visit him in his prison at Whitehall, I 
and Mor daunt had gone that very evening to the Bishop to 
apprise him of the King’s pious wish, and of Cromwell’s per- ' 
mission. Aramis resolved either to persuade or to frighten the | 
Bishop into letting him go in his stead, attired in his sacer- | 
dotal habiliments, to the Palace of Whitehall. 

Finally Athos took upon himself to prepare means for quit- 
ting England, either in the event of failure or of success. 

The evening being come, they appointed to meet at their inn 
at eleven o’clock, and each set off on his perilous task. 

The Palace of Whitehall was guarded by three regiments of 
cavalry, and more than all by the incessant and anxious watch- 


WHITEHALL, 


581 


fulness of Cromwell, who kept going back and forth, and 
sending his officers and agents. 

Alone, and in his accustomed room, illumined by two wax 
lights, the condemned monarch was sorrowfully looking back 
upon the magnificence of his past greatness, as a man at the 
I last hour sees the vision of life more brilliant and sweeter than 
I ever. 

Parry had not left his master, and since his condemnation 
had not ceased to weep. 

‘ Charles Stuart, leaning on a table, was gazing at a medallion 
which bore the portraits of his wife and daughter. He was 
i expecting first Juxon and then martyrdom. 

Sometimes his thoughts reverted to those brave French 
1 gentlemen, who already seemed separated a hundred leagues 
j from him, and as if fabulous or chimerical, like those visions 
j of sleep that disappear on waking. 

i Charles did, in fact, ask himself whether all that had passed 
was not a dream, or at any rate the delirium of fever. 

At this thought he rose up, took a few steps to rouse him- 
self from his torpor, and went to the window ; but below he saw 
the muskets of the guards shining. Then he was compelled to 
confess to himself that he was awake, and that his cruel dream 
I was a stern reality. 

He returned in silence to his seat, again leaned his elbows on 
the table, rested his head on his hand, and mused. 

Alas ! ’’ said he to himself, if I had for my confessor one 
of those luminaries of the Church whose soul has fathomed all 
the mysteries of life, all the trivialities of grandeur, perhaps his 
voice would stifle the whisper that mourns in my soul. But 
I shall have a vulgar-souled priest, whose career and fortune 
have been shattered by my misfortunes. He will talk to 
me of God and of death, as he has talked to other dying 
persons, without comprehending that I, the King, when I die, 
leave my throne to an usurper, while my children are without 
bread.” 

I Then raising the portrait to his lips, he murmured succes- 
sively the names of each of his children. 

The night, as we have said, was dark and gloomy. The 
clock of the neighbouring church slowly struck. The pale 
light of the two candles, diffused through the large and lofty 
chamber, conjured forth phantoms dimly illumined by strange 
reflections. Those phantoms were the King’s ancestors, who 


582 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


appeared to start from their gilded frames ; the reflections were 
the last blue and fitful gleams of a charcoal fire going out. 

A deep sadness seized upon Charles. He buried his head 
in his hands, thought of that world so beautiful when we are 
about to leave it, or rather when it is about to leave us, — of 
the caresses of his children, so sweet and gentle, especially 
when one is separated from them never to meet again, — and 
then of his wife, that noble and courageous being who had 
stood by him to the last moment. He drew from his breast 
the diamond cross and the star of the Garter that she had 
sent to him by those generous Frenchmen, and kissed them ; 
and then, as he thought that she would not again see these 
objects until he was laid cold and mutilated in the tomb, he felt 
those icy tremors run through his frame which death throws 
over us as his first mantle. 

Then, in that room that recalled so many royal memories, 
where he had been surrounded by so many courtiers and so 
much flattery, alone with one mournful servant whose feeble 
soul could not sustain his soul, the King allowed his courage 
to fall to the level of that weakness, of that darkness, of that 
wintry cold, and — shall we say it ? — that King who died so 
nobly, so sublimely, with the smile of resignation on his lips, 
secretly wiped up a tear that had fallen on the table and 
trembled on the gold-embroidered table-cloth. 

Suddenly footsteps were heard in the passage, the door 
opened, torches filled the room with a smoky light, and an 
ecclesiastic entered clothed in his episcopal robes, and followed 
by two guards, to whom Charles made an imperious sign. 

The guards retired, and the room again became dark. 

^‘Juxon!” exclaimed Charles; “Juxon! Thank you, my 
last friend ; you are come just in time.’’ 

The Bishop cast a significant and anxious glance at the 
man who was sobbing in the corner of the fireplace. 

‘‘Come, Parry,” said the King, “do not weep, for God 
comes to us.” 

“ If it is Parry,” said the Bishop, “ I have nothing to fear. 
Therefore, Sire, permit me to salute your Majesty, and to tell 
you who I am and why I am come.” 

At this sight and this voice Charles would doubtless have 
uttered an exclamation ; but Aramis put his finger to his lips 
and made a low bow to the King. 

“ The Chevalier ! ” murmured Charles. 


WHITEHALL, 


583 


Yes, Sire,’’ said Aramis, raising his voice; yes, Bishop 
Juxon, Christ’s faithful chevalier, who obeys your Majesty’s 
command.” 

Charles clasped his hands. He had recognized D’Herblay, 
and was dumbfounded, overwhelmed by the unceasing devo- 
tion of these men, who though strangers, and with no other 
motive than a duty imposed on them by their own consciences, 
were thus struggling against the will of a people and the des- 
tiny of a King. 

You ! ” he exclaimed, you ! How did you succeed in 
reaching here ? My God ! if you were discovered you would 
be lost.” 

Do not waste a thought upon me. Sire,” said Aramis, still 
by a gesture enjoining silence ; “ think of yourself alone ; your 
friends, as you may perceive, are on the alert. What we can 
accomplish I know not as yet ; but four determined men can 
do much. In the meantime, do not close an eye to-night ; be 
not surprised at anything, and expect everything.” 

Charles shook his head. 

“ My friend,” said he, are you aware that you have no 
time to lose, and that whatever you propose to do must be 
done very quickly ? Do you know I am to die at ten o’clock 
to-morrow ?” 

Sire, something will happen before that time which will 
render the execution impossible.” 

The King regarded Aramis with astonishment. 

A;t that very moment they heard, under the King’s window, 
a strange noise, resembling that produced by unloading tim- 
ber from a wagon. 

Do you hear ? ” said the King. 

The noise was followed by a cry of pain. 

“ I hear,” said Aramis, “ but I do not understand the noise 
or the meaning of that cry.” 

“ I do not know who can have uttered the cry,” said the 
King ; but I can inform you what is meant by the noise. 
Do you know that I am to be executed outside of this win- 
dow?” said Charles, pointing to the gloomy and deserted 
square, peopled only by soldiers and sentinels. 

‘‘ Yes, Sire,” said Aramis, I know it.” 

^^Well, those beams and planks just brought are for my 
scaffold. Some workman must have been injured while 
unloading them.” 


584 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Aramis shuddered in spite of himself. 

You can see/’ continued Charles, that it is useless for 
you to persist any longer. I am condemned : let me submit 
to my fate.” 

“ Sire,” said Aramis, resuming that tranquillity which had 
for a moment been disturbed, “ they may erect a scaffold, but 
they cannot find an executioner.” 

‘‘ What do you mean ? ” demanded the king. 

“ That at this very moment the executioner is either car- 
ried off or bribed. To-morrow the scaffold will be ready, but 
the executioner will be missing; so the execution will be 
deferred till the following day.” 

‘‘ Well, what then ? ” said the King. 

Well, then,” replied Aramis, to-morrow night we shall 
carry you off!” 

How so ? ” exclaimed the King, whose countenance was 
involuntarily illumined with a gleam of joy. 

Oh, sir,” murmured Parry, with hands clasped, may you 
be blessed, both you and yours ! ” 

But how will you do it ? ” repeated the King ; I ought 
to know, that, if necessary, I may second your efforts.” 

I do not know as yet. Sire,” replied Aramis. “ But the 
skilfulest, the bravest, and the most devoted of our party 
said, on leaving me, ^ Chevalier, tell the King that to-morrow, 
at ten o’clock at night, we shall carry him off.’ And as he 
has said it, he will do it.” 

“ Tell me the name of this generous friend,” said the King, 
that, whether he succeeds or not, I may cherish for him an 
eternal gratitude.” 

D’Artagnan, Sire, — the same who was on the point of 
saving you when Colonel Harrison entered so inopportunely.” 

‘‘ You are really wonderful men,” said the King. Had I 
been merely told of such things, I should not have believed 
them.” 

“How, Sire,” continued Aramis, ^‘listen to me. Do not 
forget for one single moment that we are watching for your j 
safety. The slightest gesture, the slightest tune, the slightest ' 
sign of those who may approach you, — watch everything, | 
listen to everything, remark everything.” 

“ Oh, Chevalier ! ” cried the King, what can I say to you ? 
No words can express my heartfelt gratitude. Should you ; 
succeed, I will not tell you that you will save a King, ■ — no, in j 


WHITEHALL. 


585 


sight of the scaffold, royalty is, I swear, of little value in my 
eyes, — but you will preserve a husband for his wife, a father 
for his children. Chevalier, take my hand : it is that of a 
friend, who will love you till he breathes his last sigh.” 

Araniis wished to kiss the King’s hand, but Charles'seized 
his and pressed it to his heart. 

At this moment a man entered, without even knocking at 
the door. Aramis wished to withdraw his hand, but the King- 
retained it. 

He who entered was one of those Puritans — half priest, 
half soldier — such as swarmed around Cromwell. 

“ What do you want, sir ? ” said the King. 

I want to know whether Charles Stuart’s confession is 
finished,” said the intruder. 

‘‘ What does that signify to you ? ” said the King ; we are 
not of the same religion.” 

“All men are brethren,” said the Puritan. “One of my 
brethren is soon to die, and I am come to exhort him to die 
properly.” 

“ Enough,” said Parry. “ The King has nothing to do with 
your exhortations.” 

“ Sire,” said Aramis, in a low tone, “ humour him ; he is 
doubtless some spy.” 

“ After the reverend Bishop,” said the King, “ I will hear 
you with pleasure, sir.” 

The man left the room with a scowling look, but not with- 
out regarding Juxon with an earnestness that did not escape 
the King’s notice. 

“ Chevalier,” said he, when the door was closed, “ I believe 
that you were right, and that this man came here with bad 
intentions. Take care, when you retire, that some misfortune 
' does not befall you.” 

I “I thank your Majesty,” said Aramis, “but do not distress 
[ yourself ; under this robe I wear a coat of mail and a dagger.” 

“ Go then, sir, and may God take you under his sacred 
protection, as I used to say when I was King.” 

' Aramis left the room, Charles himself accompanying him to 
the threshold. Aramis pronounced his blessing, which made 
the guards bow, passed majestically through the antechambers, 
filled with soldiers, reentered his carriage, into which his two 
guards followed him, and returned to the episcopal residence, 
where they left him. 


586 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


Juxon was waiting with anxiety. 

“ Well ? ” said he, on seeing Aramis. 

Everything has succeeded as I wished,’’ replied Aramis. 

Spies, guards, followers, all took me for you, and the 
King blesses you, in expectation of your blessing.” 

God protect you, my son, for your example has given me 
both hope and courage.” 

Aramis resumed his own dress and his cloak, and left the 
house, informing Juxon that he should once more have re- 
course to him. 

Scarcely had he gone ten paces in the street before he per- 
ceived that he was followed by a man wrapped up in a large 
cloak. He put his hand to his poignard, and stopped. The 
man came straight up to him : it was Porthos. 

My dear friend ! ” said Aramis, holding out his hand to 

him. 

“ You know, my dear fellow,” said Porthos, that each had 
his commission. Mine was to guard you, and I was doing so. 
Have you seen the King ? ” 

“ Yes, and all goes on well. Kow where are our friends ? ” 

We are to meet them at the inn at eleven o’clock.” 

Then we have no time to lose,” said Aramis. 

In fact, it was striking half-past ten at St. Paul’s. 

Yet, as the two friends exerted themselves, they arrived 
first. 

After them came Athos. 

Everything is going on well,” said he, not giving his 
friends time to question him. 

What have you done ? ” inquired Aramis. 

I have hired a small felucca, sharp as a canoe and swift 
as a swallow. It is waiting for us at Greenwich, opposite the 
Isle of Hogs, and is manned by a master and four men, who, ‘ 
in consideration of fifty pounds, will be at our disposal for I 
three nights running. Once on board with the King, we will i 
take advantage of the tide, will descend the Thames, and in ! 
two hours will be at sea. Then, like true pirates, we will hug | 
the shore, we will camp out on the cliffs, or, if the sea be | 
open for us, we will make for Boulogne. In case I should be 
killed, remember that the captain’s namp is Koger, and that I 
of the vessel ^ The Thunderbolt.’ By these signs you will recog- , 
nise each other. A handkerchief knotted at the four corners 
is the signal.” , ^ | 


WHITEHALL. 


* 


587 


A moment after D’Artagnan returned. 

Empty your pockets/’ said he, ‘‘ for a hundred pounds, for 
I as for mine ” — 

And he turned out his own, which were absolutely empty. 

The sum was instantly made up ; D’Artagnan left the room, 

! but returned in a few minutes. 

There/’ said he, it is accomplished, although it was not 
without difficulty.” 

“ Has the executioner left London ? ” asked Athos. 

; “No, indeed, that would not have been safe enough; he 
I might have gone out by one gate and come back by another.” 

\ “ But where is he ? ” asked Athos. 

Î “ In the cellar ! ” 

I “In what cellar ? ” 

“ In our landlord’s cellar. Mousqueton is seated on the ' 
; threshold, and here is the key.” 

■ “ Bravo ! ” cried Aramis. “ But how did you persuade this 

man to disappear ? ” 

I “ As every one in this world is persuaded — by money. It 
cost me dear, but he consented.” 

“ How much has it cost you, my friend ? ” said Athos ; “ for 
you understand, now that we are no longer altogether poor 
Musketeers without hearth or dwelling, all expenses should 
be borne by us in common.” 

“ It cost me twelve thousand francs,” replied D’Artagnan. 

“ And where did you find them ? ” asked Athos. “ Did you 
have such a sum ? ” 

“ The Queen’s famous diamond ! ” said D’Artagnan, with a sigh. 

“ Ah ! that is true,” said Aramis ; “ I noticed it on your 
finger.” 

“ So you bought it back from M. des Essarts, did you ? ” 
said Porthos. 

“ Yes,” replied D’Artagnan ; “ but it is written in heaven 
that I am not to keep it. Diamonds, like men, must have 
their sympathies and antipathies ; and this diamond seems to 
detest me.” 

“ Well, then,” said Athos, “ so far as regards the executioner, 
everything is all right ; but, unfortunately, every executioner 
has his assistant, his servant, or whatever you may call him.” 

“And this man also has his; but there we are equally 
I fortunate.” 

! . “ How so ? ” 


588 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


At the very moment that I imagined I had yet another 
bargain to make, the fellow was brought in with a broken 
thigh. From excess of zeal, he must needs accompany the 
wagon that carried the beams and planks under the King’s 
window ; one of those beams fell on his leg and broke it.” 

Ah ! ” said Aramis, “ then it must have been this man who 
uttered the cry that I heard from the King’s room.” 

Probably,” answered D’Artagnan. “ But, as he is a very 
careful man, he promised, as he was carried away, to send in 
his place four expert and skilful workmen, to assist those who 
are already engaged ; and on returning to his master’s, wounded 
as he was, he instantly wrote to Master Tom Low, a carpenter 
of his acquaintance, to betake himself to Whitehall. Here is 
the letter, which he sent by a messenger who gave it to me 
for a louis.” 

And what the devil do you mean to do with this letter ? ” 
asked Athos. 

Can you not guess ? ” said D’Artagnan, his eyes sparkling 
with intelligence. 

No, ’pon my soul.” 

“ Well then, my dear Athos, you, who speak English like 
John Bull himself, you are Master Tom Low, and we are your 
three companions. Do you understand now ? ” 

Athos uttered a cry of joy and admiration, ran to a ward- 
robe and drew from it some workmen’s clothes, which the four 
friends immediately put on; then they left the hotel, Athos 
carrying a saw, Porthos a crowbar, Aramis a hatchet, and 
D’Artagnan a hammer and nails. 

The letter of the executioner’s assistant satisfied the master 
carpenter that they were really the persons- he expected. 


CHAPTEB LXIX. 

THE WORKMEN. 

About the middle of the night Charles heard a great noise 
under his window : it was the hammer and the hatchet pound- 
ing, the crowbar wrenching, and the saw creaking. 

As he had thrown himself wholly dressed on his bed, and 
was just beginning to sleep, this noise awoke him with a 


THE WORKMEN. 


589 


start ; and as, independent of its actual clamour, this noise 
found a terrible moral echo in his soul, the frightful thoughts 
of the evening again began to assail him. Alone, facing the 
darkness and desolation, he had not the courage to support 
the fresh torture which he had not anticipated as a portion of 
his punishment, and he ordered Parry to request the sentinel 
to entreat the workmen not to pound so violently, and to pity 
the last sleep of him who had been their King. 

The sentinel was unwilling to leave his post, but he allowed 
Parry to pass. 

Having proceeded round the palace until he reached the 
window. Parry observed, on a level with the balcony, from 
which they had removed the railings, a large unfinished 
scaffold, over which the workmen were now beginning to 
fasten a drapery of black serge. 

This scaffold, raised to the height of the window, and about 
twenty feet from the ground, had two lower stages. Although 
the sight was hateful to him. Parry looked among the eight 
or ten workmen who were erecting this gloomy structure, to 
find those whose noise was likely to be most unpleasant to the 
j King ; and on the upper platform he saw two men who, by 
■ means of a crowbar, were unfastening the last fixtures of the 
iron balustrade. One of them, a perfect Colossus, was per- 
forming his task like one of those ancient battering rams 
! employed to beat down walls. At each blow of his instru- 
! ment, showers of stone flew about. The other, who was on his 
j knees, drew away the broken stones. 

It was evident that these were the men who made the noise 
of which the King complained. 

Parry mounted the ladder and went up to them. 

My friends,” said he, will you work a little more gently, 
I pray you ? The King is weary, and is in great need of 
I repose.” 

The man who was using the crowbar stopped and turned 
^half round; but as he was standing Parry could not distin- 
jguish his features, obscured as they were by the darkness, 
which was greater at the top of the scaffold. 

The man who was on his knees also turned, and as he was 
lower down than his companion, and his countenance was 
lighted by the lantern. Parry could see him. 

This man looked earnestly at him, and put his finger to his 
lips. 


590 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Parry started back in amazement. 

‘‘ Very well, very well,” said the workman, in excellent 
English ; “ go back and tell the King that if he sleeps badly 
to-night, he will sleep better to-morrow night.” 

These rude words, which taken in their literal sense bore 
such a dreadful meaning, were received by the workmen 
employed on the lower stage, and around, with horrid shouts 
of laughter. 

Parry returned, almost convinced that he was in a dream. 

Charles was waiting impatiently for him. 

At the moment that he entered, the sentinel put his héad in 
at the door to see what the King was doing. 

Charles was leaning on his elbow. 

Parry closed the door, and going up to the King, with his 
countenance radiant with joy : 

“ Sire,” said he, in a low voice, do you know who these 
workmen are who are making such a noise ? ” 

No,” said Charles, with a melancholy shake of the head ; 

how do you think I should know that ? Do I know those 
men ? ” 

‘‘ Sire,” answered Parry, in a still lower tone, and stooping 
down to his master’s bed, — “ Sire, it is the Comte de la Fère 
and his companions.” 

Who are erecting the scaffold ? ” exclaimed the astonished 
King. 

“Yes ; and who, while erecting it, are also making a hole in 
the wall.” 

“ Hush ! ” said the King, giving a terrified glance around 
him ; “ did you see them ? ” 

“ I spoke to them.” 

The King clasped his hands and raised his eyes to heaven. | 
Then, after a short and fervent prayer, he threw himself off 
his bed and went to the window, pushing aside the curtains. 
The sentinels were still on the balcony ; beyond, a dark plat- 
form was perceptible, on which shadow-like figures were! 
moving. | 

Charles could distinguish nothing, but he felt under his feet ; 
the vibration of the blows which his friends were striking, and 
each of these blows now found a responsive echo in his heart. 

Parry was not mistaken. He had really seen Athos. He . 
was engaged, with Porthos, in forming a hole in which one of j 
the cross-beams was to rest. ^ 


THE WORKMEN. 


591 


^ This hole communicated with the royal chamber by a hollow 
I space formed under its Hooring. Once hi this cavity, which 
somewhat resembled a low, intermediate story, it would be 
practicable, with a crowbar and a good pair of shoulders (and 
for the latter they relied upon Porthos), to remove a plank of 
the flooring. The King would then glide through this open- 
ing, and having reached those parts of the scaffold that were 
covered with black cloth would there muffle himself up in a 
f workman’s dress which they had prepared for him, and with- 
' out affectation or fear would descend with the four friends. 

The sentinels, seeing only the workmen who had been 
labouring on the scaffold, and having no reason to suspect 
I' them, would allow them to pass. 

The felucca, as we have said before, was in readiness, 
j: This plan was bold and yet simple and easy, as all things 
ji are that spring from hardy courage. 

I So Athos was tearing his delicate white hands by removing 
i the stones that Porthos removed from the wall. He could 
already pass his head under the architectural ornaments that 
i decorated the brackets of the balcony. In two hours more he 
^ would be able to pass his whole body, and before daylight the 
! hole would be made, and would be concealed behind the folds 
îj of an interior hanging Avhich D’Artagnan would fix there. 

D’Artagnan had passed himself off as a French workman, and 
(was putting in his nails with the regularity of a professed 
[j upholsterer. Aramis was cutting off the surplus of the serge, 
!j which hung down to the ground, concealing the woodwork of 
Ithe scaffold. 

Daylight was just appearing on the top of the houses. A 
, large fire of turf and coals had enabled the workmen to pass 
this cold night of January 29th ; but every moment some, even 
I of the most diligent, left off to go and warm themselves. 
Athos and Porthos alone had not quitted their work. So by 
Ithe first light of the morning the opening was completed. 
Athos entered it, carrying with him the clothes destined for 
i the King, wrapped up in a remnant of black serge. Porthos 
i handed him his crowbar, and D’Artagnan nailed on the inte- 
rior hanging of serge, a piece of extravagance that was very 
I great, but very necessary; it hid the opening and the man 
I who had gone into it. 

Athos required only two hours’ more labour to enter into 
communication with the King ; and from the previous arrange- 


592 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


ineiits made by the four friends, they anticipated that they * 
had the whole day before them, since as the executioner was ( 
absent they would have to send to Bristol for another. 

B’Artagnan went to resume his chestnut-coloured dress, and 
Porthos his red doublet. Aramis repaired to Juxon’s, in order 
to get to the King in his company. 

All three agreed to meet in front of Whitehall at mid-day, 
to observe what would happen there. 

Before he left the scaffold Aramis went to the opening where 
Athos was concealed, to inform him that he was going to try to 
see the King again. ] 

‘‘ Adieu, then, and be of good courage,” said Athos. Tell . , 
the King how affairs stand, and say that when he is alone he ’ 
must knock on the floor to intimate that I may safely con- 1 
tinue my proceedings. If Parry could assist me by unloosen- 1 
ing the hearth-stone of the fireplace, which doubtless is a I 
marble slab, it would be so much accomplished. Aramis, do , 
your best not to leave the King. Speak loud, very loud, for , 
you will be heard at the door. Should there be a sentinel in 
the room, kill him without hesitation ; should there be two, » 
Parry must kill one and you the other ; should there be three, ■ 
allow yourself to be killed, but save the King.” i 

“ Do not trouble yourself about that,” said Aramis ; I will 
take two poignards, that I may give one to Parry. Is that 
all?” _ ; 

Yes — go ; but conjure the King not to be led away by false 
generosity. Should there be a combat, he must fly while you 
are fighting. The slab being replaced over his head, and you,' 
dead or alive, on the slab, it will take at least ten minutes to 
find the opening by which he has escaped. During these ten^ 
minutes we shall have gone some distance and the King will ' 
be saved.” v 

All shall be done as you say, Athos. Your hand ; for per-' j 
haps we shall never meet again.” I 

Athos threw his arm over Aramis’s neck and kissed him. ^ 
That is for you,” said he. ^^Now, if I should die, tell 
D’Artagnan that I love him as a son, and embrace him for me. 
Embrace also our good and brave Porthos. Adieu !” î j 

Adieu ! ” responded Aramis. “ I am now as certain that 1 
the King will escape as that I hold the most loyal hand in the ■ 
whole world.” 

Aramis left Athos, wont down from the scaffold, and turned 

I 


THE WORKMEN. 


593 


to his inn, whistling the air of a song in praise of Cromwell. 
He found his two friends established near a good fire, drinking 
a bottle of port wine and devouring a cold fowl. Porthos, as 
he ate, was all the time growling forth violent abuse against 
the infamous Parliamentarians. D’Artagnan was eating in 
silence, but his mind was actively engaged in forming the 
most audacious plans. 

Aramis told him everything that had been agreed on. D’Ar- 
tagnan expressed his approval by a nod and Porthos by his 
I voice. 

Bravo ! ” s^-id he. Besides, we shall be there at the very 
moment of the escape. It is very easy to conceal one’s self under 
j that scaffold, and there we can be. AVhat with D’Artagnan, 
I myself, Grimaud, and Mousqueton, we shall very well kill 
eight. I do not speak of Blaisois, as he is only fit to take care 

i of the horses. At two minutes a man, that is four minutes ; 

I Mousqueton will lose one minute — that will make five ; and 
' during those five minutes you can have made a quarter of a 
1 league.” 

j Aramis hastily swallowed a mouthful of food, drank a glass 
of wine, and changed his dress. 

“ Now,” said he, I am going to the Bishop’s. Take care 
to get the arms ready, Porthos ; watch over your executioner, 
D’Artagnan.” 

Be quite easy on that .,i;pre. Grimaud has relieved Mous- 
queton, and is now stationed (^ver him.” 

Nevertheless, redouble y-m i vigilance, and do not remain 
inactive one single moment.” 

‘^Inactive? My dear, ask Poi-ilv^s; I am almost dead. I 
I am perpetually on my l-;gs : * h;rv<; the gait of a dancing- 
\\ master. Mordioux ! how * ]o>;c k^vauce just now ; and what a 
\ fine thing it is to have n. coiaitia ; f one’s own when one gets 
|i on so badly in that of otia ;* . ! ’* 

: Aramis left them as i ic left Athos — that is to say, after 

ii embracing them. He thei ; % to Bishop J uxon’s, to whom he 

i made his request. Juxon r.-iisented the more readily to take 
j Aramis with him, because he had already anticipated that he 

should require a priest, as the King would certainly wish to 
take the communion, aiui probably might wish to hear a Mass. 

Dressed in the same robes that had been worn by Aramis 
I the evening before., Ilio Bishop entered his coach. Aramis, 
even nmre disguised by his pallor and sorrow than by his 


594 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


deacon’s costume, got into the coach with him. The coach 
reached Whitehall about nine o’clock in the morning. Noth- 
ing appeared changed : the antechambers and corridors were 
full of guards, as on the previous evening ; two sentinels kept 
guard at the King’s door, and two others were marching up 
and down before the balcony, on the platform of the scaffold 
where the block was already placed. 

The King was full of hope ; on seeing Aramis again, this 
hope changed into joy. He kissed Juxon, he shook Aramis’s 
hand. The Bishop, in a loud voice, that all might hear, spoke 
of the interview he had with the King the çvening before. 
The King replied that the words he had spoken at that inter- 
view had produced their effect, and that he wished for another 
private conversation. Juxon turned to the attendants and 
requested them to leave him alone with the King. 

Every one retired ; and when the door was closed : 

Sire,” said Aramis quickly, you are saved ! The London 
executioner has disappeared ; his assistant broke his leg last 
night under your Majesty’s window ; the cry we heard pro- 
ceeded from him. They have doubtless already discovered 
the absence of the executioner ; but there is not another nearer 
than Bristol, and it will take some time to send for him. So 
we have till to-morrow, at least.” 

But the Comte de la Fère ? ” asked the King. 

He is only two feet from you. Sire. Take the poker, 
strike three blows, and you will hear his answer.” 

The King took the instrument with a trembling hand, and 
struck three blows at regular intervai >. Instantly some blows, 
dull and measured, responding to the signal, were heard 
beneath the floor. 

Therefore,” said the Kuax. “ he n iio answers me there ” — 

Is the Comte de la Eèr>^, Sirt-,’’ roollnd Aramis. “He is 
preparing the way by which > oin* Majp o \ i.: to escape. Barry, 
on his side, will raise that marblo ;flab, ; o ' a passage will be 
completely opened.” 

“ But,” said Parry, “ I have inNiiuim hi '■ 

“ Take this poignard,” said Aramis ; .mlv ;ake care not to 
blunt it too much, for you ma} I iv» ! v,f ii to penetrate 
something besides stone.” 

“Oh, Juxon!” said Charles, tioMihg to tV,.- TUshop and 
taking both his hands, — “Juxon, lemeihlhr irayer of 
him who was your King ! ” 






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j Who is so still, and always will be/’ said Juxon, kissing 
I the King’s hand. 

I Pray all your life for this gentleman, whom you see — for 
the other, whom you hear under our feet — and also for two 
others, who, wherever they may be, are, I am sure, watch ir. g 
over my safety.” 

‘‘Sire,” replied Juxon, “you shall be obeyed. Everyday, 
as long as I live, a prayer shall be offered to God for these 
faithful friends of your Majesty’s.” 

The miner continued his labour for some time longer, and 
he was heard drawing nearer every moment. But suddenly 
an unexpected noise was heard in the gallery. Aramis seized 
the poker and gave the signal of interruption. 

This noise drew near ; a number of equal and measured 
steps were heard. The four men remained motionless ; all 
eyes were fixed upon the door, which opened slowly and with 
a sort of solemnity. 

Guards were formed in line in the room that led into the 
King’s. A Parliamentary commissioner, clothed in black and 
with an ill-omened gravity, entered, bowed to the King, and, 
unfolding a parchment, read his sentence, as is usually done 
to criminals who are about to be led to the scaffold. 

“ What does this mean ? ” asked Aramis. 

Juxon made a gesture signifying that he was as completely 
ignorant as himself. 

“ So, then, it is for this very day ? ” asked the King, with 
an emotion only perceptible to Juxon and Aramis. 

“Were you not apprised that it was for this morning?” 
replied the man in black. 

“ And,” said the King, “ am I to die, like a common crimi- 
nal, by the hands of the London executioner ? ” 

“ The London executioner has disappeared, sir,” replied the 
Parliamentary commissioner; “but a man has offered himself 
in his stead. The execution will therefore only be delayed 
for the time that you may require to settle your temporal and 
spiritual affairs.” 

A slight perspiration that bedewed the roots of Charles’s 
hair was the only indication he gave of any emotion on hear- 
ing this intelligence. 

But Aramis became livid. His heart ceased to beat; he 
shut his eyes and rested his hand on a table. On seeing this 
profound grief, Charles seemed to forget his own. 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


He went up to him, took his hand, and kissed him. 

‘‘Como, nty friend,’^ said he, with a soft, melancholy smile, 

‘‘ take coin age.” 

Then, turning towards the commissioner : ^ 

“ Sir,” said he, “ I am ready. I want only two things, that i 
will not delay you long, I think: the first is, to receive thef 
Sacrament ; the second, to kiss my children, and to take a last | 
farewell of them. Will that be permitted ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied the commissioner. 1 

And he left the room. ' 

Aramis, having recovered himself, dug his nails into his 
flesh, and a heavy groan issued from his bosom. 

“Oh, monsignor,” said he, seizing Juxon’s hands, “where 
is God ? Where is God ? ” 

“ My son,” replied the Bishop, with great firmness, “ you do 
not see Him, because earthly passions conceal Him.” 

“ My friend,” said the King to Aramis, “ do not thus give 
way to despair. You ask what God is doing ? God is look- 
ing down on your devotion and my martyrdom ; and, believe 
me, both will have their reward. Attribute, therefore, what 
happens to man, and not to God. It is men who cause my 
death — it is men who make you weep.” 

“Yes, Sire,” said Aramis, “you are right: I must attribute 
this to men ; and I will make men responsible for it.” 

“ Sit down, Juxon,” said the King, falling on his knees, 

“ for you must receive my confession. Remain, sir,” he con- 
tinued, addressing Aramis, who was about to retire, — “ remain. 
Parry ; I have nothing, even in the secrecy of penitence, that 
I would not say before all ; and 1 have only one regret, which 
is that the whole world cannot hear, as you do.” 

Juxon sat down, and the King, kneeling before him like 
the humblest of the faithful, began his confession. 


CHAPTER LXX. 

REMEMBER ! 

When the King had ended his confession, he partook of 
the Holy Communion, and then asked to see his children. It 
was striking ten o'clock ; therefore, as the King had said; the 
delay had not been great. 


REMEMBER. 


597 


Yet the people were already gathered. They knew that ten 
o’clock was the time fixed for the execution ; the streets near 
the palace were crowded 5 and the King began to distinguish 
that distant roar made by a multitude and by the ocean, when 
the one is agitated by its passions and the other by its storms. 

The King’s children arrived — first the Princess Charlotte, 
then the Duke of Gloucester : that is to say, a little fair girl, 
pretty and with eyes bathed in tears ; and a young boy be- 
tween eight and nine years of age, whose dry eyes and disdain- 
fully pouting lip denoted growing pride. The boy had been 
weeping all night, but before all these spectators he shed no 
tear. 

C’harles felt his heart melt within him at the sight of these 
two children, whom he had not seen for two years, and whom 
he now saw only as he was just going to die. Tears started 
into his eyes, and he turned round to wipe them away ; for he 
wished to be firm before those to whom he bequeathed such a 
weighty inheritance of suffering and woe. 

He spoke first to the little girl, drawing her to him ; he 
exhorted her to piety, resignation, and filial love. He then 
took the Duke of Gloucester, and seating him on his knee, that 
he might at the same time press him to his heart and kiss his 
face : 

“ My son,” said he to him, in coming here you saw many 
people, both in the streets and ante-rooms. These people are 
going to cut off your father’s head. Never forget it. Some 
day, perhaps, seeing that they have you in their power, they 
may wish to make you King, to the exclusion of your elder 
brothers, the Prince of Wales, who is in France, or the Duke 
of York, who is I know not where. But you are not the King, 
my son, and you cannot become so except by their death. 
Swear to me, therefore, that you will not let the crown be put 
on your head, until you have a legitimate right to it ; for one 
i (lay — heed me well, my son — one day, if you did that, head 
and crown would both fall, and on that day you could not die 
so calm and so free from remorse as I now sliall die. Swear 
this, my son.” 

The child stretched out his little hand, put it into his fath- 
er’s, and said : 

Sire, I swear to your Majesty ” — 

Charles interrupted him. 

Henry,” said he, call me father.” 


598 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ Father,” replied the child, I swear that they shall kill 
me before they shall make me King.” 

Very well, my son,” said Charles ; now kiss me, and 
yon also, ( 'harlotte, and never forget me.” 

‘‘ Oh, no ! never ! never ! ” cried the children, clasping their 
arms round their father’s neck. 

Farewell ! ” said Charles — farewell, my children ! Take 
them away, Jnxon : their tears will leave me no conrage to die.” 

Juxon tore the poor children from their father’s arms, and 
gave them back to those who had brought them. 

The door now remained open, and any one might enter. 

The King, seeing himself alone in the midst of guards and 
inquisitive persons who began to invade the room, remem- 
bered that the Comte de la Fère was close by him, under the 
floor of the room without ■ being able to see him, and yet per- 
haps still hoping. 

He was afraid that the slightest noise might be mistaken by 
him for a signal, and that, by resuming his work, he might 
betray himself. He therefore remained quiet, and, by his 
example, kept all his attendants in the same state. 

The King was not deceived ; Athos was really under his 
feet. He was listening ; he was in despair at not hearing 
the signal ; he more than once began in his impatience to chip 
the stone ; and then, apprehensive of being heard, instantly 
stopped again. 

This dreadful inaction lasted for two hours ; a death-like 
silence reigned in the King’s room. 

Athos now resolved to ascertain the cause of this gloomy 
and portentous calm, which was broken only by the mighty 
murmur of the crowd. He partially opened the drapery that 
concealed the hole, and descended to the first stage of the scaf- 
fold. Above his head, and scarcely four inches from him, was 
the flooring laid on a level with the platform of the balcony, 
and making the scaffold. 

That noise which he had till then heard but indistinctly, 
and which now came upon him gloomy and threatening, made 
him start with terror. He went to the edge of the scaffold, 
slightly drew aside the black serge on a level with his eye, 
and beheld horsemen drawn up close to the terrible construc- 
tion ; beyond the horsemen was a file of halberdiers ; beyond 
these, the Musketeers ; and beyond them, the first ranks of the 
people, who, like the dark ocean, heaved and roared. 


REMEMBER. 


599 


What can have happened ? ” said Athos to himself, trem- 
bling more violently than the crêpe the folds of which he was 
rumpling. The people are pressing forward, the soldiers are 
under arms, and among the spectators, all of whom have their 
eyes fixed on the window, I see D’Artagnan. What is he 
waiting for ? What is he looking at ? Great God ! can they 
have allowed the executioner to escape ? 

Suddenly the drum beat discordantly and funereally above 
the place ; the noise of heavy continuous steps resounded over 
his head. It seemed to him that something like a vast proces- 
sion was trampling on the floors of Whitehall ; soon he heard 
the planks of the scaffold also creaking above him. He cast 
another look without ; and the aspect of the mighty throng 
instantly dispelled the last ray of hope that had remained at 
the bottom of his heart. 

The murmur of the crowd had altogether ceased. All eyes 
were fixed on the window. Men with mouths half open, and 
bated breath, indicated the expectation of some dreadful 
spectacle. 

The noise of steps which, from the place he then occupied 
under the floor of the King’s room, Athos had heard above his 
head was renewed on the scaffold, which bent so much under 
the weight that the planks almost touched the head of the 
unhappy gentleman. It was evident that two files of soldiers 
were taking up their position. 

At the same moment a voice well known to him, a noble 
voice, pronounced these words above his head : 

Colonel, I wish to address the people.” 

Athos shuddered from head to foot. It was indeed the 
King who was on the scaffold. 

In fact, after having drunk some drops of wine and eaten 
a morsel of bread, Charles, weary of waiting for death, had sud- 
denly determined to go and meet it, and had given the signal 
to proceed. 

The folding sashes of the window were thrown open, and from 
the extremity of the vast apartment the people could perceive, 
silently advancing, first a masked man, whom they recognised 
as the executioner by the axe that he held in his hand. This 
man advanced to the block and laid the axe on it. 

This was the first noise that Athos had heard. 

Behind this man came Charles Stuart, pale, but calm and 
walking with a firm step. He was 'attended by two priests, 


600 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


and followed by the officials, whose duty it was to preside over 
the execution, and escorted by two files of halberdiers, who 
ranged themselves on each side of the scaffold. 

The sight of the man with the mask excited a prolonged 
murmur. Every one was anxious to ascertain who this 
unknown executioner was, who had offered himself so oppor- 
tunely, and thus enabled the people to witness, on the appointed 
day, the dreadful spectacle which they supposed would have 
been deferred till the morrpw. Every one, therefore, actually 
devoured him with their eyes ; but all they could perceive was 
that he was a man of middle height, clothed in black, and who 
appeared to be of a mature age, as the end of a grizzly beard 
fell below the mask that concealed his face. 

But at sight of the King, so calm, so noble, so dignified, 
silence was instantaneously restored, and every one could hear 
the wish he had expressed to address the people. 

This request had doubtless been granted by him to whom it 
was addressed ; for, in a firm and sonorous voice which vi- 
brated even to the inmost recesses of Athos’s heart, the King 
began to speak, explaining his conduct to the people, and giv- 
ing them advice for the benefit of England. 

“ Oh,” murmured Athos to himself, is it possible that what 
1 hear and see is real ? Is it possible that God has thus 
abandoned His representative on earth, to permit him to die 
so wretchedly ? And I have not seen him — I have not even 
taken leave of him ! ” 

A noise was heard, as if the instrument of death had been 
moved on the block. 

The King paused. 

Do not touch the axe,” he said ; and he resumed his address 
at the point where he had broken off. 

At the conclusion of the speech, there was a solemn silence 
above the Count’s head. He held his hand to his temples, and, 
though the cold was intense, big drops of perspiration trickled 
through his fingers. 

That silence indicated the final preparations. 

The King cast a glance full of commiseration on the assem- 
bled throng, and taking off the order he wore, which was the 
diamond star that the Queen had sent him, he gave it to the 
priest who accompanied Juxon. He then drew from his bosom 
a small diamond cross, which had also come from Henrietta. 

Sir/’ said he; addressing the priest, I will keep this cross 


REMEMBER. 


601 


in my hand, even to the last moment ; when I am dead, yon 
will take it from me/’ 

“ Yes, Sire,” said a voice which Athos recognised as 
Arainis’s. 

Charles, who had hitherto kept his head covered, now took 
off his hat and threw it down near him ; he next unloosened 
one by one the buttons of his doublet, took it off, and threw it 
down near his hat: and then, as it was cold, he asked for his 
dressing-gown, which was given him. 

All these preparations were made with frightful calmness. 
It might have been supposed that the King was going to lie 
down in his bed, and not in his coffin. 

Raising his hair with his hands : “ Will this trouble you, 
sir ? ” he said to the executioner ; in that case it can be con- 
fined by a string.” 

Charles accompanied these words with a look that seemed 
as if it wished to penetrate the mask of the unknown. That 
look, so noble, so calm, and so resolved, compelled the execu- 
tioner to turn away his head ; but in eluding the deep and 
searching gaze of the King, he encountered the fiery glance of 
Aramis. 

The King, finding that he did not answer, repeated his 
question. 

It will suffice,” replied the man, in a hoarse voice, if you 
will remove it from your neck.” 

The King parted his hair with both his hands. Then look- 
ing at the block : This block is very low,” said he ; “ is there 
not a higher one ? ” 

“ It is the common block,” replied the masked man. 

Do you think that you can cut off my head with one blow ? ” 
asked the King. 

I hope so,” replied the executioner. 

There was such a strange intonation in these three words, 

I hope that all who heard them shuddered, except the 
King. 

That is well,” said he calmly. And now, executioner, 
listen to me.” 

The man took one step toward the King, and leaned on his 
axe. 

I do not wish you to take me by surprise,” said Charles. 
« I shall kneel down to pray, but you must not then strike.” 

“ And when shall I strike ? ” asked the masked man. 


602 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


When I lay my head upon the block and stretch out my 
hand, saying ^Remember ! ’ then strike boldly/’ 

The man in the mask slightly inclined his hep,d. 

The time has come for me to leave this world,” said the 
King to those around him. “ Gentlemen, I leave you in the 
midst of the tempest, and precede you to that country wherp 
storms are never known. Farewell ! ” 

He looked at Aramis and gave him a special sign with his’ head. 

Kow, sir,” said he, draw back from me, I beg of you, and 
let me pray in a low voice. Do you also draw back,” he said 
to the executioner ; it will be hnt for a moment, and I know 
that I belong to you. Only remember not to strike me before 
I give you the signal.” 

Charles knelt down, made the sign of the cross, and put his 
lips to the boards as if he wished to kiss the platform ; then 
laying one hand on the floor and the other on the block : 

‘‘ Comte de la Fère,” he said in French, are you there, and 
can I speak to you ? ” 

That voice struck straight to Athos’s heart, and pierced it 
like steel. 

Yes, your Majesty,” he replied, in a trembling voice. 

0 faithful friend, generous heart ! ” said the King, I 
could not be saved. It was not to be. Now, at the risk of 
sacrilege, I will speak to you. Yes, I have spoken to men — 
I have spoken to God; I now speak to you last "'of all. For 
supporting a cause that I considered sacred, I have lost the 
throne of my fathers and diverted the heritage of my children. 
One million in gold remains, which I buried in the cellars of 
the castle at Newcastle, just before I left that town. You 
alone know that this money exists ; make use of it, then, when- 
ever you think it may be most useful to my eldest son. And 
now, Comte de la Fère, bid me adieu.” 

Adieu, Majesty, saint, and martyr ! ” stammered Athos, 
frozen with horror. 

There was then a moment’s silence, during which Athos 
fancied that the King arose and changed his position. 

Then, in a voice full and sonorous, so that not only could 
it be heard on the scaffold, but far beyond amid the throng : 

Remember ! ” said the King. 

He had scarcely finished the word before a terrible blow 
shook the flooring of the scaffold. The dust arose from the 
drapery, blinding Athos ; but suddenly, as by a mechanical 


THE MAN WITH THE MASK. 


603 


movement he raised his eyes and his head, a warm drop fell 
upon his forehead. Athos recoiled with a shudder of horror, 
and at the same moment the drops changed into a black cas- 
cade which gushed across the boards. 

Athos fell on his knees, and stayed there as if struck with 
madness and utter helplessness. But he soon became aware, 
by the receding murmur, that the crowd was departing. lie 
remained a minute or two longer, motionless and in silent 
despair. Then he regained his fortitude so far as to be able 
to dip the end of his handkerchief in the blood of the rOyal 
martyr. And, as the crowd was diminishing more and more, 
he descended, cut through the serge, slipped between two 
horses, mingled with the people, whose dress he wore, and 
was the first to reach the tavern. 

On going up to his apartment and looking into a glass, he 
saw his forehead marked with a large red spot. He put his 
hand to it, drew it back smeared with the King’s blood, and 
fainted away. 


CHAPTER LXXI. 

THE MAN WITH THE MASK. 

Although it was only four o’clock in the afternoon it was 
already dark, and icy snow was falling fast. 

Aramis was the next to return, and found Athos, if not 
insensible, at least prostrated. 

At the first words spoken by his friend, the Count awoke 
from the species of lethargy into which he had fallen. 
Well,” said Aramis, we were conquered by fate ! ” 
Conquered ! ” said Athos. “Noble and unfortunate 
King ! ” 

“ Are you wounded ? ” inquired Aramis. 

“ No ; this blood is his.” 

The Count wiped his brow. 

“ Where were you, then ? ” 

“ Where you left me — under the scaffold.” 

“ And you saw everything ? ” 

“ No, but I heard every thin\!f. God preserve me from such 
another hour as I passed there ! Has not my hair turned 
white ? 


604 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


“ You know, then, that I did not leave him ? ’’ 

I heard your voice until the very last moment.’* 

Here is the star that he gave me,” said Aramis, and the 
cross that I took from his hand. He desired them to be re- 
turned to the Queen.” 

And here is a handkerchief to wrap them in,” said Athos. 

And he drew from his pocket the handkerchief he had dipped 
in the King’s blood. 

And now,” said Athos, what have they done with the 
poor body ? ” 

“ By Cromwell’s orders, regal honours have been paid to it. 
We placed it in a leaden coffin ; the physicians are now 
engaged in embalming the unfortunate remains; and when 
they have finished, the King will be laid in an illuminated 
chapel.” 

“ Mockery ! ” murmured Athos gloomily. Regal honours 
to him they have murdered ! ” 

That proves,” said Aramis, that the King dies, but that 
royalty never dies.” 

Alas ! ” said Athos, “ he is perhaps the last knightly King 
that the world will see.” 

Come, come, do not give way to despair. Count,” said a 
gruff voice ; it was Porthos, whose heavy step was now heard 
on the stairs. We are all mortal, my poor friends.” 

You come back late, my dear Porthos,” said the Comte de 
la Père. 

“ Yes,” answered Porthos, there were people in my way 
who retarded me. They were dancing, the wretches ! I took 
one of them by the neck, and I fancy that I almost throttled 
him. A patrol came up at the moment, but, fortunately, the 
man with whom I was particularly engaged could not speak. 
So I took advantage of his silence, and turned aside into a 
little street which led to one still smaller, and there I lost 
myself. As I do not know London and cannot speak English, 
I imagined that I should never find my way again, but at last 
here I am.” 

But have you not seen D’Artagnan ? ” said Aramis. Can 
anything have happened to him ? ” 

We were separated by the crowd,” answered Porthos, 

and, in spite of all my endeavours, I could not rejoin 
him.” 

Oh ! ” said Athos bitterly, I saw him. He was in the 


THE MAN WITH THE MASK. 


605 


first rank of the crowd, admirably situated to Jose nothing ; 
and as, after all, the sight was interesting, he no doubt wished 
to see it to the end.’’ 

Oh ! Comte de la Fère,” said an unruffled voice, although 
somewhat affected by the exertion of running, can it really 
be that you culumniate the absent ? ” 

This reproach touched Athos’s heart. Nevertheless, as the 
sensation he had experienced on beholding D’Artagnan in the 
first ranks of this ferocious and besotted people was deep and 
painful, he contented himself with replying : 

I do not calumniate you, my friend. They were anxious 
about you here, and I told them where you were. You did not 
know King Charles ; to you he was only a stranger, and you 
were not obliged to love him.” 

And on uttering these words, he held out his hand to his 
friend. But D’ Artagnan pretended not to perceive it, and kept 
his own hand under his cloak. 

Athos then allowed his to fall slowly by his ^de. 

Ouf ! I am tired,” said D’Artagnan ; and he sat down. 

Drink a glass of port,” said Aramis, taking a bottle from 
the table and filling a glass ; drink that ; it will refresh you.” 

“ Yes, let us drink,” said Athos, seeing the Gascon’s dis- 
pleasure, and wishing to touch his glass with his own, let us 
drink and leave this abominable country. The felucca is 
waiting for us, you know. Let us depart this very evening ; 
we have now nothing more to do here.” 

You are in a great hurry, Monsieur le Comte,” said 
D’Artagnan. 

I This bloody soil burns my feet,” replied Athos. 

' “ The snow has not that effect on me,” said the Gascon. 

“ But what would you have us do ? ” asked Athos, “ now that 
the King is dead ? ” 

So, Monsieur le Comte,” replied D’Artagnan carelessly, 
you do not see that anything remains for you to do in Eng- 
land ? ” 

Nothing — nothing,” said Athos, “ except to doubt the 
Divine goodness, and to despise my own powers.” 

Well, then,” said D’Artagnan, ‘‘I — a pitiful, sanguinary 
fool, who went and took my place thirty steps from the scaf- 
fold, that I might the better see the beheading of that King 
whom I did not know, and who was, it seems, indifferent to 
me — I think differently from the Count. I remain,” 


606 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Athos turned extremely pale ; every one of his friend’s re- 
proaches vibrated to the inmost recesses of his heart. 

‘‘ What ! you remain in London ? ” said Portlios to D’Arta- 
gnan. 

“ YeSj” said he. And you ? ” 

“Well,” said Porthos, somewhat embarrassed before Athos 
and Aramis, “ if you remain, as I came with you I will not go 
back without you. I will not leave you alone in this abomi- 
nable country.” 

“ Thank you, my excellent friend. Then I have a little 
enterprise to propose to you. It came into my head while I 
was looking at the spectacle just mentioned. We will execute 
it together when Monsieur le Comte is gone.” 

“ What is it ? ” said Porthos. 

“It is to find out the name of that masked man who offered 
himself so obligingly to cut off the King’s head.” 

“ A man with a mask ! ” exclaimed Athos. “ So you did 
not let the executioner escape ? ” 

“ The executioner ? ” said D’Artagnan ; “ he is still in the 
cellar, where, I presume, he is holding an interesting conversa- 
tion with some of our host’s bottles. But you remind me ” — 

He went to the door. 

Mousqueton ! ” he cried. 

“ Sir ? ” replied a voice that appeared to issue from the 
depths of the earth. 

“Liberate your prisoner,” replied D’Arta'gnan ; “ all is over.” 

“ But,” said Athos, “ who then is the miscreant who laid 
hands on the King ? ” 

“ An amateur executioner,” replied Aramis, “ who, however, 
handles the axe with great facility ; for, as he hoped^ it took 
him only one blow.” 

“ Did you not see his face ? ” inquired Athos. 

“ He wore a mask,” replied D’Artagnan. 

“ But you who were near him, Aramis ? ” 

“ I only saw a grizzly beard which descended below his 
mask.” 

“ So he is a man of mature age,” said Athos. 

“ Oh,” said D’Artagnan, “ that indicates nothing. When 
any one puts on a mask, he can easily put on a beard too.” 

“ I am sorry that I did not follow him,” said I^orthos. 

“Well then, my dear Porthos,” said D’Artagnan, “that was 
exactly the idea that entered my mind.” 


the man with the mask. 


607 


Athos now comprehended all. He stood np. Pardon me 
D’Artagnan ! ’’ said he ; doubted God ; therefore I might 
easily doubt you. Pardon me, my friend ! ’’ 

“ We will see about that presently,’^ answered D’Artagnan, 
with a half smile. 

Well, then,^^ said Aramis. 

‘^Well,’^ continued D’Artagnan, “while I was looking, not 
at the King, as the Count thinks (for I know what it is to see 
a man die, and although I ought to be habituated to such 
sights, they always make me feel ill), but at the masked exe- 
cutioner, the idea suggested itself, as I have told you, to know 
who he was. Kow, as we are accustomed to depend upon one 
another and to call for one another’s assistance, — as one 
appeals to the second hand to aid the first, — I mechanically 
looked around me to see if Porthos was there, for I saw you 
near the King, Aramis, and I knew that you, Athos, must be 
under the scaffold ; and this makes me pardon you,” he 
hdded, holding out his hand to Athos, “ for you must have 
suffered. As I have said, I looked around me, when I saw to 
my right a head which had been cut open, and which, whether 
well or otherwise, had been mended with black taffeta. 
‘ Parbleu ! ’ said I to myself, ^ there is some of my handiwork ; 
I had a hand in patching up that poll.’ In fact, it was that 
unfortunate Scotsman, Parry’s brother, the man whom you 
remember M. Groslow amused himself by trying his strength 
on, and who had only half a head when we found him.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Porthos, “ the man with the black chickens.” 

“ Exactly so ; the same. He was making signs to another 
man, who was on my left. I turned, and discovered honest 
Grimaud, wholly engaged, like myself, in devouring with his 
eyes the masked executioner. ^ Oh ! ’ said I to him. And as 
this syllable is the abbreviation which the Count makes use of 
when he speaks to him, Grimaud understood that he was the 
person addressed, and turned as if moved by a spring. He 
also recognised me, and pointing his finger at the masked man : 

‘ Hein ! ’ said he, which meant, ^ Do you see ? ’ ^ Farhleu ! ’ I 

answered ; we perfectly understood each other. Then I turned 
to Parry’s brother, and he also had eloquent looks. To 
be brief, all was finished, as you know, in a very melancholy 
way. The people departed ; the evening was gradually set- 
ting in ; I retired into a corner of the square, with Grimaud 
and the Scotsman, whom I had requested by a sign to remain 


608 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


with us. From there I watched the executioner, who, having 
gone back to the King’s room, was changing his dress — 
doubtless it was covered with blood ; after which he put on a 
black hat, wrapped himself up in a cloak, and disappeared. I 
guessed that he was coming out, and ran round to the front 
door ; five minutes later we saw him coming downstairs.” 

“ And you followed him ! ” exclaimed Athos. 

“ Parbleu ! ” said D’ Artagnan ; but not without difficulty, 
let me tell you, for every moment he kept turning round ; 
then we were obliged to hide ourselves, or to assume an air 
of indifference. I could easily have gone up to him and 
killed him ; but I am not an egotist, and I was preparing an 
entertainment for you, Aramis and Athos, to give you some 
slight consolation. At last, after half an hour’s walk 
through the crookedest streets of the city, he reached, a small 
solitary house, where no sound and no light indicated the 
presence of man. Grimaud drew a pistol from his breeches. 

‘ Hein,’ said he, showing it to me. ^ No,’ said I, and I 
grabbed him by the arm. I have told you that I had my idea. 
The man with the mask stopped before a low door and drew 
out a key, but before putting it into the lock he turned to 
see if he was followed. I was out of sight behind a tree, 
Grjmaud behind a stone post, and the Scotsman, who had 
nothing to conceal him, threw himself fiat on his face in the 
street. He whom we pursued doubtless thought himself 
alone ; for I heard the grating of the key, the door opened, 
and he disappeared.” 

“ The wretch ! ” exclaimed Aramis. “ And while you are 
come here he will have fled, and we shall not find him again.” 

‘‘ Come now, Aramis,” said D’ Artagnan, you must take me 
for some one else.” 

^‘Nevertheless,” said Athos, “ in your absence ” — 

“ Well, in my absence, had I not Grimaud and the Scots- 
man to take my place ? Before he could have had time 
to proceed ten steps in the house I had gone completely 
round it, and at the door by which he entered I placed our 
Scotsman, signifying to him that if the man with the black 
mask should come out, he was to follow him wherever he 
went, while Grimaud himself should also follow, and return to 
wait for us here. Then I stationed Grimaud at the other doOr, 
giving him the same orders. And now, here I am ! The brute 
is surrounded ; now who wishes to be present at the halloo ? ” 


THE MAN WITH THE MASK. 


609 


Athos threw himself into the arms of D’Artagnan, who was 
wiping his brow. 

friend/’ he exclaimed, ^^you are really too good to 
pardon me. I am wrong — a hundred times wrong ! I ought 
^ to know you by this time ; but there is something so funda- 
: mentally bad in us that we are always suspicious.” 

Hum ! ” said Porthos ; can this executioner chance to be 
M. Cromwell, who, to be sure that his business was well done, 
: wished to do it himself ? ” 

Very likely, truly ! Cromwell is short and stout, and this 
: man is thin, lank, and rather tall than short.” 

; Some condemned soldier, to whom pardon was offered at 
; this price,” said Athos, “as they did to the unfortunate 
j Chalais.” 

“ No, no,” continued D’Artagnan ; “ it was neither the 
I measured pace of a foot-soldier nor the straddle of a dragoon ; 

I he had an elegant leg and a distinguished gait. Either I 
! deceive myself greatly, or we are engaged with a gentleman.” 

1 “ A gentleman ! ” exclaimed Athos ; “ impossible ! It would 

! be a disgrace to the whole class.” 

“ A splendid chase ! ” said Porthos, with a laugh which 
I made the window-panes rattle ; “ a splendid chase, mordieu ! ” 

I “ Are you going to leave England, Athos ? ” asked D’Arta- 
I gnan. * 

i “ No, I remain ! ” replied that gentleman, with a threatening 
I gesture that boded no good to him for whom that gesture 
I was meant. 

“ Our swords, then ! ” said Aramis — “ our swords ! and let 
us not lose one instant.” 

The four friends promptly resumed their dresses as gentle- 
men, girded on their swords, called up Mousqueton and Blaisois 
and ordered them to settle their account with the landlord, 
and to hold everything ready for their departure, it being 
probable that they would leave London that very night. 

The night was become even more gloomy, the snow was 
still falling heavily, and seemed like a vast winding-sheet 
spread over the regicide city. It was about seven o’clock in 
the evening, and scarcely any one was to be seen in the streets ; 
every one was at home in his own family, talking over in low 
voices the terrible occurrences of the day. 

The four friends, wrapped in their cloaks, traversed all 
those places in the City so thronged during the day, so 


610 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


deserted that night. D’Artagnan led them, endeavouring, 
from time to time, to find the marks he had made on the walls 
with his poignard ; but the night was so dark that there was . 
great difficulty in finding them. Yet D’Artagnan had fixed • 
eacli post, each water-spout, and each sign so well in his mem- i 
ory that after a half hour’s walk he came, with his three com- 
panions, in sight of the solitary house. 

D’Artagnan believed, for an instant, that Parry’s brother 
had disappeared ; but he was mistaken : the hardy Scotsman, ‘ 
accustomed to the snows of his own mountains, was stretched 
out near a stone post, and, like a statue thrown from its base, 
insensible to the inclemency of the weather, had allowed him- 
self to be covered with snow ; but at the approach of the four 
friends he rose up. 

Come,” said Athos, here is another good servant. Vrai 
Dieu! worthy men are less rare than we thought! This is 
encouraging.” 

Do not let us be too hasty about weaving crowns for our , 
Scotsman,” said D’Artagnan ; I fancy the rogue is here on ■ 
his own i)rivate account. I have heard that the gentry born •: 
beyond the Tweed are very revengeful. Let Master Cfroslow 
take care ! He might, perchance, pass but a sorry quarter of | 
an hour, should we encounter him.” ‘ 

And, leaving his friends, he went up to the Scotsman and ] 
made himself known to him. He then beckoned the others to 
approach. 

“Well?” said Athos, in English. |l 

“No one has left the house,” said Parry’s brother. | 

“ Very well. Porthos anr^ Aramis, you remain with this | 
man. D’Artagnan will take me to Grimaud.” J| 

Grimaud, not less clever than the Scotsman, was leaning ÿ 
against a hollow willow-tree which served him as a shelter. 
For an instant, as in the case of the other sentinel, D’Arta- 
gnan thought that the masked man was gone, and that Gri- ^ 
maud had followed him. >5 

Suddenly a head appeared and a low whistle was heard. 

“ Oh ! ” said Athos. 

“ Yes,” said Grimaud. .H 

They went up to the willow. b; 

“Well,” inquired D’Artagnan, “has any one left the 
house ?” s 

“No, but some one has gone in,” answered Grimaud. .■ 


THE MAN WITH THE MASK. 


611 


‘‘ A man or a woman ? 

“ A man/’ 

“ Aha ! ” said D’Artagnan, so there are two of them ? ” 

I wish there were four,” said Athos ; “ the party would 
be more equal.” 

Perhaps they are four,” said D’Artagnan. 

How so ? ” 

Might not other men have been in the house waiting for 
them ? ” 

“ That could be ascertained,” said Grimaud, pointing to the 
window shutters, through which filtered rays of light. 

That is true,” said Athos. “ Let us call the others.” 

They went round the house and beckoned Porthos and 
Aramis, who hastily joined them. 

Have you seen anything ? ” they inquired. 

No, but we soon shall,” replied H’Artagnan, pointing to 
Griniaud, who, by clinging to the projections of the wall, had 
already got five or six feet from the ground. 

All four went up to the house. 

Grimaud continued his ascent with the agility of a cat, until, 
at last, he managed to get hold of one of those hooks that 
serve to confine the shutters when they are open ; at the same 
time he found a moulding that seemed to be a sufficient support 
for his foot, for he made a sign indicating that he had attained 
his object. Then he put his eye to a chink in the shutter. • - 

Well ? ” said D’Artagnan. 

Grimaud held out his hand closed, all but two fingers. 

Speak,” said Athos ; we cannot see your signs. How 
many are there ? ” 

Grimaud made- a great effort. 

Two,” said he ; one faces me, the other’s back is turned.” 

Very well ; and who is the one facing you ? ” 

The man I saw enter.” 

Do you know him ? ” 

I thought I did, and was not mistaken ; short and stout.” 

Who can it be ? ” said the four friends, in a low voice. 

General Oliver Cromwell ! ” 

The four friends looked at each other. 

And the other ? ” demanded Athos. 

“ Thin and lank.” 

It is the executioner,” said D’Artagnan and Aramis, in the 
same breath, 


612 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


I can only see his back,” said Griinaud. But wait : now 
he is moving and turning round ; if he has taken off his mask 
I sha-11 be able to see — Ah ! ” 

Grim and, as if he had been struck to the heart, let go the 
iron hook and threw himself back, emitting a hollow groan. 
Porthos caught him in his arms. 

Did you see him ? ” asked the four friends. 

Yes,” replied Grimaud, with bristling hair, his forehead 
wet with perspiration. 

The lean, lank man ? ” said D’Artagnan. 

Yes.” 

In fact, the executioner ? ” said Aramis. 

''Yes.” 

" And who is he ? ” inquired Porthos. 

" He ! he ! ” stammered out Grimaud, pale as death, and 
seizing with his trembling hands the hand of his master. 

" Who is he ? ” said Athos. 

" Mordaunt ! ” replied Grimaud. 

D’Artagnan, Porthos, and Aramis uttered an exclamation of 

joy- 

Athos started back and put his hand to his brow. 

" Pate ! ” he murmured. 


CHAPTER LXXII. 

Cromwell’s house. 

It was really Mordaunt whom D’Artagnan had followed, 
without knowing him. 

On entering the house he took off his mask and grizzly 
beard, which he had put on as a disguise, went up the stairs, 
opened a door, and in a room lighted by a lamp and adorned 
with gloomy-coloured hangings, found himself in the presence 
of a man who was seated at a desk writing. 

This man was Cromwell. 

Cromwell, as is known, had, in London, two or three of 
those retreats, unknown to the generality of his acquaintance, 
and the secret of which was disclosed only to his most intimate 
friends ; as we have seen, Mordaunt could be reckoned as one 
of these. 


CROMWELL^ s HOUSE. 


613 


When he entered Cromwell raised his head. 

Well, Mordaunt/’ said he, ^‘yon come late.’’ 

General,” replied Mordaunt, I wished to see the cere- 
mony to the end, and that delayed me.’-’ 

«Ah!” said Cromwell, «I did not think that you were 
usually so curious.” 

« I am always curious to see the fall of one of your High^ 
ness b enemies, and that man was not considered one of the 
least. But you. General, — were you not at Whitehall?” 

« No,” replied Cromwell. 

There was a moment’s silence. 

« Have you heard any of the particulars ? ” asked Mordaunt. 
« None whatever. I have been here since morning. I only 
know that there was a plot to save the King.” 

« Ah ! did you know that ? ” exclaimed Mordaunt. 

« It is of little consequence. Four men, disguised as work- 
men, were to rescue the King from prison and take him to 
Greenwich, where a bark was waiting for him.” 

«And knowing this, did your Highness remain here, far 
from the City, tranquil and inactive ? ” 

« Tranquil ? Yes,” said Cromwell. « But who told you 
that I was inactive ? ” 

« And yet, if this plot had succeeded ? ” 

« I wish it had.” 

« I thought that your Highness regarded the death of Charles 
as a misfortune necessary for the welfare of England ? ” 
«Well,” said Cromwell, « and that is still my opinion. But 
his death was all that* was wanted; and perhaps it would have 
been better had it not been on the scaffold.” 

« Why so, your Highness ? ” 

Cromwell smiled. 

« Pardon me,” said Mordaunt, « but you know. General, that 
I am an apprentice in politics, and I wish, in all circum- 
stances, to profit by the lessons that my master is willing to 
give me.” 

« Because it would have been said that, though I caused him 
to be justly condemned, I had allowed him to escape out of 
pity.” 

« But if he had really escaped ? ” 

« Impossible ! ” 

« Impossible ? ” 

« Yes, my precautions were taken.” 


614 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


And did your Highness know the four men who undertook 
to save the King ? ” 

“ They were those four Trenchmen, two of whom were sent 
by Madame Henrietta to her husband, and two by Cardinal 
Mazarin to me.” 

And do you think, sir, that Mazarin charged them to do 
what they have done ?” 

“ It is possible ; but he will disavow them.” 

‘‘ Do you think so ? ” 

I am sure of it.” 

Why ?” 

“ Because they have failed.” 

^Wour Highness, you gave me two of those Frenchmen 
because they were guilty of bearing arms in favour of Charles 
I. Now that they are guilty of a plot against England itself, 
will your Highness give me all four of them ? ” 

Take them,” said Cromwell. 

Mordaunt bowed, with a smile of triumphant ferocity. 

But,” said Cromwell, seeing that Mordaunt was going to 
thank him, let us return, if you please, to this unfortunate 
Charles. Were there any cries among the people ? ” 

“ Very few, except ‘ Long live Cromwell ! ’ ” 

Where were you situated ? ” 

Mordaunt looked for an instant at the General, to read in 
his eyes whether his inquiry was only curiosity, and whether 
he did not already know everything. 

But Mordaunt’s fiery eyes could not penetrate the gloomy 
depths of Cromwell’s. 

“ I was placed so that I could see everything and hear every- 
thing,” said Mordaunt. 

It was now Cromwell’s turn to look earnestly at Mordaunt, 
and Mordaunt’s to make himself impenetrable. After a few 
moments’ examination, he turned his eyes away with indifference. 

“ It seems,” said Cromwell, that this improvised execu- 
tioner did his duty well. The blow was delivered in a most 
masterly way — at least, as far as I have been informed.” 

Mordaunt recollected that Cromwell had told him that he 
had received no particulars whatever ; and he was now con- 
vinced that the General had been present at the execution, 
concealed behind some curtain or shutter. 

In fact,” said Mordaunt, in a calm voice and with an un- 
moved countenance, “ a single blow sufficed.” 


CROMWELL'S HOUSE. 


615 


“ Perhaps/’ said Croiiiwellj “ it was, after all, a man of that 
profession.” 

Do you think so, sir ? ” 

Why not ? ” 

The man had not the air of an executioner.” 

“ And what other person, except an executioner,” exclaimed 
Cromwell, “would have been willing to undertake such a 
frightful office ? ” 

But,” said Mordaunt, “ perchance some personal enemy of 
King Charles, who may have made a vow of revenge, and who 
has now accomplished that vow, — perhaps some gentleman, 
who had powerful reasons for hating the fallen King, and who, 
knowing that he was about to liy and -escape him, thus thrust 
himself in the way, with his face masked and his axe in his 
hand, not as a substitute for the executioner, but as the Minis- 
ter of fate.” 

“ It is possible,” said Cromwell. 

“And if it were the case,” said Mordaunt, “would your 
Highness condemn the deed ? ” 

“It is not for me to judge,” said Cromwell. “It rests 
between him and his God.” 

“ But if your Highness knew this gentleman ? ” 

“ I do not know him, sir,” said Cromwell, “ and I do not 
wish to know him. What does it signify to me who it was ? 
The moment Charles was condemned, it was not a man that 
cut off his head — it was an axe.” 

“ And yet, without the man,” said Mordaunt, “ the King 
would have escaped.” 

Cromwell smiled. 

“ Without doubt. You yourself said that he would have 
been carried off.” 

“ He would have been taken to Greenwich ; there he would 
have got on board a felucca, with his four preservers. But in 
this felucca there were four of my men, with four barrels of 
gunpowder belonging to the nation. At sea the four men 
would have got into the boat; and you are already too skilful 
a politician, Mordaunt, to require any further explanation.” 

“ Yes ; at sea they would all have been blown up.” 

[ “ Exactly so. The explosion would have done that which 

[ the axe could not do ; King Charles would have disappeared, 
I completely. annihilated. It would then have been said that, 
having escaped human jusEce, he had been punished and over- 


616 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


taken by the vengeance of Heaven — that we were nothing 
more than his judges, and that it was God who was his execu- 
tioner. This is what your masked gentleman has made me 
lose, Mordaunt; you see, therefore, that I was right when I 
did not wish to know him ; for really, in spite of his excellent 
intentions, I could not be grateful for what he has done.” 

Sir,” said Mordaunt, as always, I bow myself humbly 
before you. You are a profound thinker ; and,” continued he, 
‘^your idea of the mined felucca is sublime.” 

Absurd,” said Cromwell, since it is become useless. No 
idea is sublime in politics except that which bears fruit ; every 
abortive idea is foolish and barren. You will, therefore, go to 
Greenwich this evening, Mordaunt,” said Cromwell, rising ; 

you will inquire for the master of the felucca ^ Thunderbolt,’ 
you will show him a white handkerchief knotted at the four 
corners, — it is the signal agreed upon, — you will tell his men 
to disembark, and you will have the powder returned to the 
arsenal ; unless, indeed ” — 

Unless, indeed ?” — responded Mordaunt, whose counte- 
nance had been illumined by a ferocious joy while Cromwell 
was speaking. 

Unless this felucca, such as she is, could aid your personal 
projects.” 

Ah, my Lord, my Lord ! ” exclaimed Mordaunt, God, in 
making you His elect, has given you His penetration, which 
nothing can escape.” 

“ I believe that you called me my ^ Lord,’ ” said Cromwell, 
laughing. It matters not, as we are alone ; but you must 
take care that such an expression does not escape you before 
our silly Puritans.” 

But will your Highness not be called so shortly ? ” 

I hope so, at least,” replied Cromwell ; but the time is 
not yet come.” i 

Cromwell arose and took his cloak. 

Are you going, sir ? ” asked Mordaunt. 

Yes,” answered Cromwell. “ I slept here last night and 
the night before ; and you know it is not my custom to sleep 
three nights in the same bed.” 

Then, sir,” said Mordaunt, you give me leave of absence 
for the night ? ” 

And also for to-morrow, if you require it,” said Cromwell. 
Since yesterday evening,” he added, smiling, “you have 


CROMWELLS HOUSE, 


61T 


done enough for my service ; and as you have some personal 
affairs to settle, it is just that I should leave you your own 
time.” 

Thank you, sir ; I hope it will be well employed.” 

Cromwell made Mordaunt a slight bow ; then turning : 

Are you armed ? ” demanded he. 

I have my sword,” said Mordaunt. 

“ And is there no one waiting for you at the door ? ” 

No one.” 

“ Then you ought to come with me, Mordaunt.” 

Thank you, sir ; the turnings that you are obliged to make 
in passing through the subterranean passage would occupy my 
time ; and after what you have just told me, I have perhaps 
already lost too much. I will go out at the other door.” 

I ■ “ Go, then,” said Cromwell ; and putting his hand upon a 
I secret knob, he opened a door so completely hidden in the 
1 tapestry that it was impossible for the most practised eye to 
I find it out. 

I This door moved by a steel spring, and closed itself behind 
him. 

It was one of those secret outlets which, as history imforms 
us, existed in all the mysterious houses inhabited by Crom- 
well. 

It passed under the deserted street, and opened into the 
bottom of a grotto, in the garden of another house, situated a 
hundred paces from that which the Protector had just left. 

It was during the latter part of this scene that Grimaud 
had espied these two -men through an opening in the shutter, 
and had successively recognised Cromwell and Mordaunt. 

We have seen what effect this intelligence produced on the 
four friends. 

D’Artagnan was the first who entirely recovered his facuh 
ties. 

Mordaunt ! ” said he. Ah, by Heaven ! God himself offers 
him to us.” 

“ Yes,” said Porthos; ^Get us break open the door and fall 
on him.” 

On the contrary,” said D’Artagnan, let us break nothing. 
No noise ; noise will collect a crowd ; and if he is, as Grimaud 
says, with his worthy master, there must be a party of his 
Ironsides at band, some fifty paces off. Halo, Grimaud ! come 
here, und try to keep yourself on your legs.” 


618 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Grimaud came up. As he recovered his senses he had 
become furious, but he was collected. 

“ Now,” said D’Artagnan, mount to the window again, and ! 
tell us if Mordaunt is still with his companion, and whether j 
he is coming out or going to bed. Should his companion still j 
be there, we will wait until he is alone ; should he come out, 
we will catch him at his exit; should he remain, then we will | 
break open the window. It makes less noise, and is less diffi- j 
cult, than breaking open a door.” | 

Grimaud began silently to climb to the window. j 

Guard the other issue, Athos and Aram is ; we will remain j 
here with Porthos.” I 

The two friends obeyed. j 

Well, Grimaud ? ” demanded D’Artagnan. 

He is alone,” said Grimaud. 

Are you sure of it ? ” 

Yes.” 

“We have not seen his companion come out.” 

“ Perhaps he went out by the other door ! ” 

“ What is he doing ? ” 

“He is wrapping himself up in his cloak and putting on 
his gloves.” 

“ Come here ! ” said D’ Artagnan in a low voice. 

Porthos put his hand to his poignard, which he mechanically 
drew from its scabbard. 

“ Sheathe it, friend Porthos,” said D’Artagnan ; “ we must i 
not think of striking yet. We have got him; therefore let j 
us proceed in an orderly manner. We have some mutual 
explanations to exchange, and this is a sequel to the D'Ar- j 
mentières scene ; only let us hope that this may have no i 
offspring, and that, if we crush him, everything will be anni- ! 
hilated with him.” 

“ Hush ! ” said Grimaud : “ he is now preparing to come out 
— he is now going up to the lamp — he is blowing it out. I 
can see nothing more.” 

“ Down with you then — down with you !” 

Grimaud leaped back and alighted on his feet ; the snow i 
deadened the fall ; no sound was heard. 

“ Tell Athos and Aramis to place themselves on each side of H 
their door, as Porthos and I are going to do here — that theyjl 
must clap their hands if they get hold of him, and we will do 
the same if we catch him.” 


make 
he; must 


619 


less show of 
not see any- 


CROMWELL 

■I- Grimaud disappeared. 

■ Porthos, Porthos/' said D 
your broad shoulders, my dear 
thing as he comes out.^’ 

“ If only he comes this way ! V \ 

Hush ! said D’Artagnan. | 

Porthos pressed up close agaiast tike wall, as if he were tiy- 
ing to squeeze into it. D’Artagîî*i giid the same. 

Mordaunt’s steps were now hearit on the echoing stairs. 
An unseen door slid back with a g^ti^ noise in its groove. 
Mordaunt looked out ; but, by “ 
by the two friends, he saw not 



the door opene 



soil of the precautions taken 
fie then introduced the 
,nd lie stood on the thres- 


key into the lock 
hold. 

At the same moment he 
D’Artagnan. 

He tried to shut the door a^ ain. Æut Porthos leaped 
seized the knob, and opened it to pits 


hnnself face to face with 


full extent. ' Titen he 


clapped his hands three tim s.' aijb} . Ath<fe" aM eans 

running up. ' ^ ^ 

Mordaunt turned deadly | ^le,,%ut he neither uttered a cry 
nor called for assistance. 


: D’Artagnan went to Mordaunt, and thrusting him back with 
his chest made him go backwards, as it were,- to the stairs, 
which were lighted by a lamp that permitted the Gascon to 
keep Mordaunt’s hands always in view. But Mordaunt was 
aware that even if D’Artagnan w^ere killed, he w'ould still 
have to rid himself of his three pther enemies. He therefore 
made not one defensive movement — not one threatening gest- 
ure. Having reached the door, Mordaunt felt himself driven 
against it ; and doubtless he then thought that all would soon 
be over with him. But he was mistaken : D’Artagnan ^nit 
out his hand and opened the door; and he and Mordaunt 
found themselves in the room where, ten minutes before, the 
young man had been talking with Cromwell. 

Porthos came in after him. Stretching out his arm, he un- 
hooked the lamp from the ceiling ; and by means of this first 
lamp he lighted the second. 

. Athos and Aramis appeared at the door and locked it. 

: ‘^Take the trouble to sit down,” said D’Artagnan, offering 
the young man a chair. 

He took the chair from D’xVrtagnan’s hands and sat down; 




620 


TWBMTY \ŸEARS after. 


pale but calii Aramis|\ set three paces from him three other 
chairs, for hiiLell D’Afitagnan, and Porthos. Athos went and 
sat in a corneil in the mA-^t distant part of the room, seemingly 
resolved to ren%in a m* fionless spectator of what was about to 
take place. 

Porthos sat oil the lei 1*1 ^nd Aramis on the right of D’Arta- 


gnan. 

Athos appeared comj.il^ly overwhelmed. Porthos kept 
rubbing the palms of his hands with a feverish impatience. 
Aramis bit his Ups even to bleeding, although he smiled. 
D’Artagnan alone moderated his feelings, at least in appear- 


ance. 


“ Monsieur Mordaunt,’ ’ said he to the young man, since 
chance has at last brought us together after so many days lost 
in running after each otherr, let Ms have a little talk together.’’ 


LXXIII. 


- CONVERSATION. 

Mord AUNT had been taken so completely by surprise, and ' 
had mounted the stairs in such a state of confusion, that his 
powers of reflection were not under his control. It is certain 
that his first sensations produced that agitation, surprise, and 
undeflnable terror which assail a man whose arm is suddenly 
seized by a deadly and more powerful enemy, at the very mo- 
ment when he believes that enemy is in another place and dif- 1 
ferently engaged. 

But when once seated, from the moment he saw that a 
reprieve was accorded him, from whatever motive it might ; 
spring, he concentrated all his ideas and rallied all his facul- 
ties. 

D’Artagnan’s fiery eyes, instead of intimidating, as it were \ 
electrified him ; for this fiercely threatening look was yet frank 
and open in its hatred and anger. Mordaunt, ready to grasp 
at any opportunity that might offer to free himself from I 
this dangerous situation, whether by force or stratagem, col- 
lected himself together like a bear, at bay in its lair, which fol- ^ 
lows, with an apparently motionless eye, every movement of I 
the hunter who has tracked him. ' 


CONVERSA TION. 


621 


Meantime that eye by a rapid sweep took in tlie long, 
powerful sword that hung by his side ; and, without affecta- 
tion, he laid his left hand upon its hilt, brought it within reach 
of his right hand, and seated himself, as D’Artagnan had re- 
quested him. 

D’Artagnan, no doubt, expected some aggressive word that 
might lead to one of those mocking or terrible conversations 
that he sustained so well. Aramis said to himself, “ We are 
now going to hear some foolish talk.” Porthos bit his mus- 
tache, murmuring, Mordieu ! What ceremony in crushing this 
snake ! ” Athos buried himself in a corner of the room, mo- 
tionless and pale as a marble bas-relief, and feeling in spite of 
his quietude the perspiration gather on his forehead. 

Mordaunt said nothing ; only when he was well assured that 
his sword was at his command, he crossed his legs impertur- 
bably, and waited. 

This silence could not be further prolonged without becom- 
ing ridiculous. D’Artagnan saw this, and as he had invited 
Mordaunt to sit down and talk, he thought that it was his 
business to begin the conversation. 

‘‘ It seems to me, sir,” said he, with a deadly politeness, “ that 
you change your costume as rapidly as the Italian buffoons 
whom Cardinal Mazarin imported from Bergamo, and whom 
he no doubt took you to see during your visit to France.” 
j Mordaunt made no answer. 

i “Just now,” continued D’Artagnan, “you were disguised — 
I mean to say dressed — as an assassin ; and now ” — 

“ And now, on the contrary, I have all the appearance of 
1 being in the dress of a man who is going to be assassinated ; 

I is it not so ? ” replied Mordaunt, in his cool staccato voice. 

“ Oh ! sir,” replied D’Artagnan, “ how can you say such 
I things, when you are in the company of gentlemen, and have ' 
,1 such a good sword by your side ? ” 

r “There is no sword so good as to be equal to four swords 
i and four daggers ; without reckoning the swords and poignards 
i of your acolytes at the door.” 

I “ Pardon me, sir,” replied D’Artagnan ; “you are mistaken : 

I those who are waiting for us at the door are not our acolytes, 

■ but our lacqueys. I am anxious to place things on their 

j absolute basis of truth.” . . 

Mordaunt’s only answer was a smile that ironically curled 

his lips. 


622 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ But that is not the question at issue,” said D’Artagnan, 
and I will return to my question. So then I wms doing my- 
self the honour of asking you, sir, why you have exchanged 
your exterior. The mask was sufficiently ’useful to you, it. 
seems to me ; the grizzly beard suited you admirably ; and I 
think that the axe, with which you delivered such an illustri- 
ous blow, would be suitable at this moment. Why, then, did 
you lay them aside ? ” 

Because, in recalling to my mind the scene at Armentieres, 

I thought that I should find four axes instead of one, since I 
was about to meet four executioners.” 

Sir,” replied D’Artagnan, with the greatest possible 
serenity, although a slight motion of the eyebrows announced 
that he was beginning to grow warm, — “sir, although pro- 
foundly vicious and corrupt, you are very young, and this is 
the reason that I do not take notice of your frivolous expres- 
sions. Yes, frivolous ; for what you have just said regarding 
Arm entières has not the slightest connection with the present 
situation. In fact, we could not offer a sword to madame your 
mother, and invite her to fence with us. But from you, sir, 
from a young gentleman who handles the poignard and pistol 
as we have seen you do, and who carries at his side a sword 
of that length, there is no one who has not the right to 
demand the favour of a meeting.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Mordaunt, “ then it is a duel that you want ? ” i 

And he rose up with sparkling eye, as if ready instantané- 
ously to respond to the challenge. ^ 

Porthos rose also, ready as always for any such adventure. 

“ Pardon me, pardon me,” said D’Artagnan, with the same ! 
coolness ; “ let us not hurry ; for each of us ought to be 
anxious that things should go on according to rules. Sit down, 
then, my dear Porthos ; and you. Monsieur Mordaunt, will 
you remain quiet ? We will regulate this affair in the best 
way we can ; and I am going to be candid with you. Con- 
fess, M. Mordaunt, that you greatly wish to kill us — the one 
or the others ? ” 

“ The one and the others ! ” replied Mordaunt. 

D’Artagnan turned to Aramis and said to him : 

“ It is a great happiness, you must allow, dear Aramis, that 
M. Mordaunt understands so well the niceties of the Prench 
language. At least, there will be no misunderstanding be- 
tween us, and we shall arrange everything wonderfully well.” ^ 


CONVERSA TION. 


623 


Then turning to Mordaunt again : 

“ Dear Monsieur Mordaunt,” he continued, I will tell you 
j that these gentlemen repay with interest your kind sentiments 
I regarding them, and would also be quite charmed to kill you. 

I I will say more, that they will probably kill you. However, 
: it will be like loyal gentlemen, and the best proof I can give 
I you of it is this.” 

I And with these words D’Artagnan threw his hat on the 
I carpet, pushed back his chair to the wall, made a sign to his 
friends to do the same, and bowing to Mordaunt with a grace 
|i truly French : 

“ I am at your command, sir,” he continued ; for if you 
! have nothing to say against the honour I claim, I will begin, 
I if please. My sword is shorter than yours, it is true ; but 
i; never mind, I hope the arm will supply the deficiency of the 
sword.” 

I| Halt, there ! ” said Porthos, coming forward ; I begin, if 
;i you please, and without rhetoric ! ” 

; ^ Allow me, Porthos,” said Aramis. 

I Athos did not stir. He might have been taken for a statue, 
i' His breathing even appeared to be suspended. 

‘‘ Gentlemen, gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, be quiet ; you 
V will have your turn. Look at this man’s eyes, and read there 
l*. the blessed hatred with which we have inspired him. See 

I how skilfully he has unsheathed his sword, and admire the 
circumspection with which he looks around him to see if there 
is any obstacle to prevent him from free play. Well, does not 
all this prove to you that M. Mordaunt is a skilful swordsman, 
and that you will succeed me ere long, provided I permit him ? 
Eemain, therefore, in your places, like Athos, whose calmness 
I recommend to your imitation, and let me take the initiative 
i' in this affair. Besides,” said he, drawing his sword with a ter- 
i rible gesture, I am more particularly concerned with this 
'I gentleman. I wish it, and I will have it so ! ” 

This was the first time that D’Artagnan had used this 
:| expression in speaking to his friends. Hitherto he had con- 
I tented himself with thinking it. 

Porthos drew back ; Aramis put his sword under his arm ; 

I Athos remained motionless in his dark corner, where he kept 
j, himself, not calm, as D’Artagnan said, but choking and 
(I breathing hard. 

I Keturn your sword to its scabbard, C’hevalier,” said 


m 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


D’Artagnan to Aramis ; else this gentleman might fancy j 
that you have intentions that you do not entertain.” i 

Then, turning to Mordaunt : Sir,” said he, I await you.” ’ 
And I, gentlemen, admire you. You argue about Avho i 
shall fight me, but you do not consult me on the point — me, 
whom the affair slightly concerns, I believe. I hate y6u all, ! 
it is true, but in different degrees. I hope to kill you all ; ^ 
but I have more chance of killing the first than the second, 
the second than the third, and the third than the fourth. I 
claim, therefore, the right of choosing my adversary. Should 
you deny me this right, kill me ; I will not fight.” 

The four friends looked at one another. 

‘‘It is just,” said Porthos and Aramis, who hoped that the 
choice would fall upon them. 

Athos and D’Artagnan said nothing ; out even their silence 
was consent. 

“ Well, then,” said Mordaunt, in the midst of the profound 
and solemn silence that reigned in that mysterious house, — 

“ well, then, I choose for my first adversary him who, not 
thinking himself longer worthy of being called the Comte de 
la Père, has assumed the name of Athos.” 

Athos arose from his seat as if a spring had been placed 
under his feet ; but to the astonishment of his friends, after a 
moment’s immobility and silence : 

“ Monsieur Mordaunt,” said he, shaking his head, “ all con- 
test between us is impossible ; give to some other the honour 
you destined for me.” 

And he resumed his seat. 

“ Ah ! ” said Mordaunt, “ there is already one who is afraid.” 

“ A thousand thunders ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan, springing 
at the young man ; “ who dares to say here that Athos is 
afraid ? ” 

“ Let him say what he likes,” said Athos, with a smile full 
of sorrow and contempt. 

“ And is this your decision, Athos ? ” demanded the Gascon. 

“Irrevocable,” said Athos. 

“Very well; then we will say no more about it.” 

Then, turning to Mordaunt: “ You have heard, sir,” said he, 

“ that the Comte de la Fère does not wish to do you the honour 
of fighting you. Choose amongst us the one who is to take his 
place.” 

“ As I do not fight him,” replied Mordaunt, “ it is of little 


CONVERSA TION. 


625 


consequence to me whom I fight. Put your names into a hat, 
and I will draw one out at hazard.” 

“ That is an idea ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

In fact, this method reconciles everything,” replied Ara- 

mis. 

I should not have thought of it,” said Porthos ; and yet 
it is very simple.” 

“ Come, Aramis,” said D’Artagnan, “ write this for us in 
that pretty little hand in which you wrote to Marie Michon, 
to inform her that this gentleman’s mother wished to have the 
Duke of Buckingham assassinated.” 

Mordaunt bore this fresh attack without wincing. He was 
standing up with his arms crossed, and appeared as calm as a 
man could be under such circumstances. If it was not courage 
it was at least pride, which much resembles it. 

Aramis went to Cromwell’s desk, tore three pieces of paper 
of equal size, wrote his own name on the first, and the names 
of his companions on the two others, held them open towards 
Mordaunt, who, without reading them, nodded to signify that 
he was satisfied ; then, having rolled them up, he put them into 
a hat and presented them to the young man. 

He thrust his hand into the hat, drew out one of the papers, 
which he let fall contemptuously on the table without read- 
ing it. 

Ah, you snake ! ” murmured D’Artagnan, I would give 
all my chances of being captain of Musketeers, that this paper 
might contain my name ! ” 

Aramis opened the paper ; but calm and cool as he affected 
to be, his voice perceptibly shook with hatred and desire : 

D’Artagnan ! ” he read, in a loud voice. 

D’Artagnan uttered an exclamation of joy. 

Ah ! ” said he, so there is justice in Heaven ! ” 

Then, turning to Mordaunt : “ I hope, sir,” said he, that 
you have no objection to make?” 

“ None whatever, sir,” replied Mordaunt, drawing his sword 
in turn and resting the point on his boot. 

The moment D’Artagnan was quite certain that his wish was 
granted and that his man would not escape him, he regained 
all his calmness, all his serenity, and indeed all the delibera- 
tion that he was accustomed to exhibit in his preparations for 
so serious an affair as a duel. He turned up the cuff’s of his 
sleeves properly, and rubbed the sole of his right foot on the 


626 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


floor ; but this did not prevent his remarking, for the second 
time, that Mordaunt cast a very singular glance around him, 
such as he had once before detected. 

Are you ready, sir ? ” said he, at length. 

I am waiting for you, sir,” replied Mordaunt, raising his^ 
head and looking at D’Artagnan with an expression impossible, 


to describe. 

“ Then be on your guard, sir,” said the Gascon, for I handle! 
the sword pretty well.” 

And I also,” said Mordaunt. 

So much the better ; it will soothe my conscience. Ou 
guard ! ” 

One moment,” said the young man ; give me your word.it 
gentlemen, that you will only attack me successively.” , 

Is it merely to have the pleasure of insulting us, you little 


viper ! that you make this request ? ” asked Porthos. 


Ko ; it is, as this gentleman said just now, to sooth my 


conscience. 

It must be for something else,” murmured D^Artagnanii 
shaking his head and looking around him with some anxiety.! 

On the word of a gentleman,” said Aramis and Porthos, at 
the same time. | 

In that case, gentlemen,” said Mordaunt, draw yourselves 
up in some corner, like the Comte de la Père, — who, if he doesj 
not wish to fight, at any rate seems to me to understand the 
rules of combat, — and give us room, for we shall want it.” 

So let it be,” said Aramis. 

What a fuss ! ” said Porthos. 

Draw aside, gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan ; we must not 
leave the smallest excuse to justify this gentleman in behavingjj 
ill; which, saving the respect I have for him, I must say he' 
seems much inclined to do.” 

This new raillery fell blunted on Mordaunt’s impenetrable! 
face. 

Porthos and Aramis drew themselves up in a corner, on the!; 
same side as Athos, so that the champions occupied the middlei 
of the room ; that is to say, they were in the full light, the two 
lamps that illumined the scene standing on Cromwell’s desk. , 
Come,” said D’Artagnan, are you ready at last, sir ? ” 

I am,” said Mordaunt. 

Both at the same time made one step forward, and by this 
movement their swords became engaged, ! 


CONVERSA TION. 


627 


D’Artagnan was too distinguished a swordsman to amuse 
himself (in the language of the school) by feeling for his 
adversary. He made a brilliant and rapid feint, which, was 
parried by Mordannt. ^ 

“ Aha ! ” said he, with a smile of satisfaction. 

And without wasting time, thinking that he saw an opening, 
he made a direct thrust, rapid and flamboyant, like lightning. 

Mordaunt parried a counter en carte, so close that it would 
have been held in a young lady’s ring. 

“ I begin to think that we shall have some fun,” said D’Ar- 
tagnan. 

“ Yes,” murmured Aramis ; but, in amusing yourself, fence 
close.” 

Sangdieu ! my friend,” said Porthos, take care ! ” 

It was now Mordaunt’s turn to smile. 

Ah, sir,” said D’Artagnan, “ what a rascally smile you 
have ! It was the devil who taught you to smile in that man- 
ner, was it not ? ” 

Mordaunt made no other reply than endeavouring to hold 
down D’Artagnan’s sword with a strength that the Gascon did 
not expect to And in a frame apparently so weak. But, thanks 
to a parry as skilful as that which his adversary had just exe- 
cuted, he met Mordaunt’s sword in time, and it glided along 
his own without entering his breast. 

Mordaunt took a quick step back. 

Ah ! you break away,” said D’Artagnan, you turn ! As 
you please. I shall gain something by it : I no longer see 
your rascally face. Here I am entirely in the shade ; so much 
the better. You have no idea what a false look you have, sir, 
particularly when you are frightened. Just look into my eyes, 
and you will there see what your glass never shows you — a 
frank and loyal look.” 

Mordaunt, at this flow of words, which was not perhaps in 
very good taste, but which was customary with D’Artagnan, 
whose tactics it was to engage his adversary’s attention, did 
not answer a word; but he broke, and, still turning, at last 
changed places with D’Artagnan. He smiled more and more. 
This smile began to annoy the Gascon. 

Come, come, it is necessary to put a finish to this,” said 
D’Artagnan. The scoundrel has muscles of iron. Now for 
home thrusts !” 

And in turn he pressed upon Mordaunt, who still continued 


628 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


to give back, but evidently on a X3lan, without making a fault 
of which D’ Artagnan could take advantage, without his sword 
swerving one instant from the proper line. And yet, as the 
contest was in a room, and there was a want of space for the 
combatants, Mordaunt’s foot soon touched the wall, against 
which he rested his left hand. 

“ Ah ! ” said D’ Artagnan, this time you cannot give back, 
my fine friend ! Gentlemen,’’ said he, compressing his lips and 
frowning, did you ever see a scorpion nailed to a wall ? No ! I 
Well, then, you shall soon see it.” 

And in one second D’Artagnan made three terrible thrusts 
at Mordaunt: each of them touched, but only grazed him. 
D’Artagnan could not understand this force. The three friends 
looked on, breathing hard, with perspiration on their brows. 

At last D’Artagnan, engaged too closely, in turn took one 
step back to prepare his fourth thrust, or rather to execute it ; 
for fencing was with D’Artagnan like chess — a vast combina- 
tion, the details of which were closely interwoven. But at 
the very moment when, with greater violence than ever, he 
threw himself upon his adversary — at the very instant when, 
after a close and rapid feint, he attacked quick as lightning, the 
wall appeared to split asunder, Mordaunt disappeared through 
the yawning aperture, and D’Artagnan’s sword, caught between 
the two panels, snapped off as if it had been glass. 

D’Artagnan recoiled and the wall closed again. 

Mordaunt, while defending himself, had manoeuvred so as 
to bring his back against the secret door by which we saw 
Cromwell leave the room. Having accomplished this, he had 
felt for the knob with his left hand ; then he disappeared, as in 
the theatre vanish the evil genii who have the power of pass- 
ing through walls. 

The Gascon uttered a furious imprecation ; to which, on the 
other side of the iron panel, a savage laugh responded — a 
funereal laugh that made a shudder run through even the veins 
of the sceptical Aramis. 

“ Come, gentlemen, come ! ” cried D’Artagnan ; let us break 
open this door.” 

It is the devil himself ! ” said Aramis, hastening up at his 
friend’s call. 

He has escaped us ! — Sangdieu ! he has escaped us ! ’ 
shouted Porthos, applying his mighty shoulder to the dorthr 
which, secured by a secret spring, did not move. | 


CONVERSA TI ON. 


629 


So mucli the better/’ murmured Athos hoarsely. 

I suspected this, mordioux ! ” said D’Artagnan, exhausting 
himself in fruitless efforts, — ^‘1 suspected it. When the 
wretch circled round the room I foresaw some infamous 
manoeuvre ; I suspected that he was laying some plan ; but 
who could have imagined this ? ” 

It is a fearful misfortune that his friend the devil sends 
us/’ said Aramis. 

It is a manifest blessing sent by God ! ” said Athos, with 
evident delight. 

Really,” said D’Artagnan, shrugging his shoulders, and 
giving up the door, that decidedly would not open, ‘‘you are 
becoming imbecile, Athos ! How can you say such things to 
such men as we are ? Mordioux ! do you not understand our 
situation ?” 

“ What then ? — what situation ? ” demanded Porthos. 

“At this game, whoever does not kill is killed,” replied 
D’Artagnan. “ See now, my dear, does it enter into your 
expiatory jeremiads that M. Mordaunt is sacrificing us to his 
filial piety ? If you think so, tell me candidly.” 

“ Oh, D’Artagnan, my friend ! ” 

“ Really, it is quite pitiable to view things from this stand- 
point ! The wretch will send us a hundred Ironsides, who 
will pound us in this mortar of Cromwell’s like grain. Come, 
come ! Away ! If we remain five minutes longer here, it 
is all over with us.” 

“ Yes, you are right ; let us be off ! ” said Athos and Aramis. 

“ And where shall we go ? ” demanded Porthos. 

“ To the hôtel, my dear friend, to get our baggage and 
horses ; and from thence, should it please God, to France, 
where, at any rate, I understand the architecture of the houses. 
Our vessel is waiting for us ; and, in faith, it is fortunate that 
it is so.” 

And D’Artagnan, joining example to precept, thrust the stump 
of his sword into the scabbard, picked up his hat and opened 
the stairway door, and went swiftly down, followed by his three 
companions. 

At the door the fugitives found their lacqueys, and inquh’ed 
whether they knew anything about Mordaunt j but they had 
not seen any one leave the house. 


630 


TWEN^h^ YEARS AFTER. 


CHAPTER LXXIV. 

THE FELUCCA ‘^THUNDERBOLT.’^ 

D’Artagnan had guessed aright. Mordaunt had no time I 
to lose, and he lost none ; he knew how quick to decide and act 
his enemies were, and determined to act accordingly. This 
time the Musketeers had found an adversary quite worthy of 
them. 

After having carefully closed the door behind him, Mordaunt, 
sheathing his useless sword, glided through the subterranean 
passage ; but as he approached the neighbouring house, he 
stopped to examine himself and to recover his breath. 

“ Good ! ” said he ; “ it is nothing — almost nothing — mere 
scratches ; one on the breast and two on the arm. The wounds 
I give are rather better. Let them ask the executioner of 
Béthune, my uncle De Winter, and King Charles. Now, there 
is not one moment to lose, for if that be lost perhaps they will 
be saved ; and they must die, all four together, by one single 
blow, destroyed by the thunder of man, for want of that of 
God. They must disappear — shattered, annihilated, dispersed 
in atoms. Let me run, then, till my limbs no longer can 
carry me, till my heart bursts in my bosom : but I must 
arrive before them ! ” 

And Mordaunt started at a rapid, but more equal, pace | 
toward the first cavalry barracks, about a quarter of a league ] 
olf ; this quarter of a league he accomplished in four or five ! 
minutes. 

Having reached the barracks, he made himself known, took 
the best horse in the stables, leaped upon it, and started down 
the road. In a quarter of an hour he reached Greenwich. 

“There is the port,” he murmured ; “that dark spot down 
there is the Isle of Dogs. Good ! I am half an hour before 
them — perhaps an hour. Fool that I was ! I almost burst 
myself by my silly haste. Now,” said he, standing up in his 
stirrups, that he might see as far as possible amongst the 
numerous masts, — “ ‘ The Thunderbolt ’ ? — where is ‘ The 
Thunderbolt ’ ? ” 

As he mentally pronounced this word, and as if to respond 
to his thought, a man lying on a coil of ropes rose up and 
came toward him. 


THE FELUCCA THUNDERBOLT.^' 


631 


Mordaunt drew his handkerchief from his pocket, and 
allowed it to float - a moment in the air. The man seemed to 
notice it, but remained stationary, without moving back or 
forward. 

iVIordaunt tied a knot at each of the corners of his handker- 
chief ; the man came up to him. It will be remembered, this 
was the signal agreed upon. The sailor was enveloped in a 
large rough hooded-cloak that concealed his figure and face. 

“ Sir,” said the mariner, perhaps you are come from 
London to take a trip to sea ? ” 

Expressly for that purpose,” replied Mordaunt, and to 
sail from the Isle of Dogs.” 

“ That is it ! Doubtless you have some preference, sir ? You 
would like one vessel better than another ? You would wish 
for a good sailing vessel — one that was swift ?” — 

Like a Thunderbolt,” replied Mordaunt. 

“Very well. Then mine is the very vessel you are looking 
for. I am its master.” 

“ I begin to think so,” said Mordaunt, “ especially if you 
have not forgotten a certain signal.” 

“ Here it is, sir,” replied the sailor, drawing from the 
pocket of his boat-cloak a handkerchief knotted at the four 
corners. 

“ Good, good ! ” exclaimed Mordaunt, leaping from his 
horse. “ Now, then, there is no time to lose. Send my horse 
to the nearest inn and take me to your vessel.” 

“ But your companions ? ” said the sailor. “ I thought there 
were four of you, without reckoning the lacqueys.” 

“ Listen,” said Mordaunt, going close to the sailor ; “ I am 
not the person you are waiting for, as you are not the person 
they hope to find. You have taken Captain Rogers’s place, 
have you not ? You are here by the order of General Crom- 
well ; and I also came from him.” 

“ In fact,” said the master, “ I know you. You are Captain 
Mordaunt.” 

Mordaunt started. 

“ Oh ! do not be frightened,” said the sailor, pushing aside 
his hood and showing his face ; “ I am a friend.” 

“ Captain Groslow ! ” exclaiined Mordaunt. 

“The same. The General remembered that I used to be a 
naval officer and gave me charge of this expedition. Is there 
anything changed ? ” 


632 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


‘‘Nothing; on the contrary, everything remains as it was. 
before.” 

“ Because, for a moment, I thought that the King’s death 
might ” — 

“ The King’s death has only made them hasten their flight. 
In a quarter of an hour, nay, in ten minutes, they will prob- 
ably be here.” 

“ Then what are you come for ? ” 

“ To embark with you.” 

“ Ah ! does the General doubt my zeal ? ” 

“No; but I wish myself to be present at my revenge. Can 
you find no one to relieve me of my horse ? ” 

Groslow whistled, and a sailor made his appearance. 

“ Patrick,” said Groslow, “ lead this horse to the nearest 
inn. Should you be asked to whom it belongs, say to an Irish 
gentleman.” 

The sailor went off without saying a word. 

“ Now,” said Mordaunt, “ are you not afraid that they may 
recognise you ? ” 

“There is no danger in this dress, covered by this cloak, 
and in this dark night. You yourself did not know me : they 
are, therefore, much less likely to do so.” 

“ True,” said Mordaunt. “ Besides, they will never think 
of you. Everything is ready, is it not ?.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ The cargo is on board ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Five barrels, full ? ” 

“And fifty empty.” 

“ That is right.” 

“We are carrying port wine to Anvers.” 

“Excellent. Now take me on board and return to your 
*post, for they will soon be here.” 

“ I am ready.” 

It is of the utmost importance that none of your men 
should see me enter the vessel.” 

“ I have only one man on board, and I am as sure of him as 
of myself. Besides, this man does not know you ; and, like 
his companions, he is ready to obey our orders ; but he is igno- 
rant of everything.” 

“ That is well. Come along.” 

They then went down to the Thames. A little boat was 


THE FELUCCA “ THUNDEHBOLTF 


633 


moored to the bank by an iron chain attached to a stake. 
Groslow pulled the boat toward him, steadied it while Mor- 
daunt got in, then jumped in himself, and seizing the oars he 
began to row in a style that proved the truth of what he had 
said ; namely, that he had not forgotten his old business of a 
sailor. 

In about five minutes they had got clear of that crowd of 
ships which even then encumbered the approach to London ; 
and Mordaunt could perceive, like a dark spot, the little vessel 
riding at anchor about four or five cables’ length from the Isle 
of Dogs. 

On approaching The Thunderbolt ” Groslow whistled in a 
peculiar manner, and they saw a man’s head appearing above 
the rail. 

Is it you, captain ? ” inquired the man. 

‘‘ Yes ; lower the ladder.” 

And Groslow, passing light and swift as a swallow under the 
bowsprit, ranged himself alongside of the vessel. 

Get aboard,” said he to his companion. 

Mordaunt, without answering, seized the rope and climbed 
up the side of the vessel with an activity and firmness not 
common to landsmen. But his desire of vengeance made up 
for his want of practice, and rendered him fit for anything. 

As Groslow had foreseen, the sailor on board did not appear 
even to remark thàt his captain returned with a companion. 

Mordaunt and Groslow went to the captain’s cabin. It was 
a temporary one erected on the deck. The state cabin had 
been given up to his passengers by Captain Kogers. 

And they,” demanded Mordaunt, where will they 
be ? ” 

At the other end of the ship,” replied Groslow. 

And have they nothing to do with this part ? ” 

Absolutely nothing.” 

^Œxcellent ! I will keep myself concealed in your cabin. 
Do you return to Greenwich and bring them back. You have 
a boat ? ” 

That in which we came here.” 

“ It appeared to me to be light and well built.” 

A regular canoe.” 

Make her fast to the stern, put some oars into her, and let 
her follow in onr wake, that we may have nothing to do but 
to cut the rope. Provide a supply of rum and biscuits j for 


634 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


should the sea chance to be rough, your men will not be sorry j 
to have something at hand to refresh them/^ 

It shall be done as you wish. Would you like to visit the 
powder magazine ? ” 

Not till you return. I wish to place the fuse myself, that 
I may be sure that it will not burn long. Above all, conceal 
your face, that they may not detect you.’^ 

Do not disturb yourself about that.” 

^^Go, now; it is striking ten at Greenwich.” 

In fact, the sound of a clock striking came solemnly through 
the air, which was charged with heavy clouds rolling along the 
sky like silent billows. 

Groslow closed the door, which Mordaunt fastened inside ; 
and after having charged the sailor to keep a good lookout, he 
went down into his boat, and the men swiftly pulled away, 
tossing up the foam with two pairs of oars. 

When Groslow reached Greenwich, the wind was cold and 
the jetty was deserted; several vessels had just sailed with 
the full tide. At the very moment that Groslow set foot on 
land, he heard something like the gallop of horses on the 
road paved with cobble-stones. 

“ Oho ! ” said he ; “ Mordaunt was right in hurrying me. 
There was no time to lose. Here they are ! ” 

It was our friends, or rather their vanguard, composed of 
D’Artagnan and Athos. Having come opposite the spot where 
Groslow was standing, they stopped, as if they guessed that 
he whom they expected was there. Athos dismounted and 
quietly unrolled a handkerchief knotted at the four corners, 
permitting it to float in the air; while D’Artagnan, always 
cautious, remained leaning down on his horse, with his hand 
buried in his holster. 

Groslow, still in doubt whether the horsemen were really 
those he expected, had squatted down behind one of tho«^" 
cannons, set up on the shore, to which vessels are frequent y 
moored; but when he saw the signal, he arose and we:.* 
toward the gentlemen. He was so completely muffled up in h . 
cloak that it was quite impossible to see his face. Besides, t' e 
night was so dark that even this precaution was superfluous. 

Yet Athos’s piercing eye discovered, in spite of the darkness, 
that it was not Eogers who was before him. 

‘‘ What do you want with me ? ” said he to Groslow, steppi .g' 
back. 


THE FELUCCA “ THUNDERBOLT.'' 635 

I wish to tell you, my Lord,” replied Groslow, putting on 
an Irish accent, ^‘that if you are looking for Captain Rogers, 
you will look for him in vain.” 

How so ? ” said Athos. 

Because this morning he fell from the topmast and broke 
his leg. But I am his cousin ; he told me the whole affair, and 
ordered me to look out for him, and to take his place in carry- 
ing wherever they wished the gentlemen who should bring me 
a handkerchief knotted at the four corners, like that which 
you hold in your hand and that which I have in my pocket.” 

And so saying, Groslow drew from his pocket the handker- 
chief that he had already shown Mordaunt. 

Is that all ? ” demanded Athos. 

No, my Lord, for there are also seventy-five pounds prom- 
ised if I land you safe and sound at Boulogne, or on any other 
part of the coast of France that you may prefer.” 

“ What do you say to this, D’Artagnan ? ” asked Athos, in 
French. 

First tell me what he says,” replied DWrtagnan. 

Ah, that ’s true,” said Athos ; I forgot that you do not 
understand English.” 

And he repeated to D’Artagnan the conversation he had just 
had with the captain. 

“ This appears to me to be probable enough,” said the 
, Gascon. 

And to me also,” said Athos. 

“ Besides,” said D’Artagnan, should this man deceive us, 
we can at any time blow out his brains.” 

Then who will pilot the vessel ? ” 

You, Athos ; you know so many things that I have no 
doubt you can navigate a ship.” 

Faith, my friend,” said Athos, with a smile, even while 
jesting you have nearly hit upon the truth. My father origi- 
nally destined me for the sea, and I have some vague notions 
of navigation.” 

There now, do you see ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan. 

Go and get our friends, then, D’Artagnan. It is eleven 
o’clock, and there is no time to lose.” 

D’Artagnan rode toward two horsemen, who, pistol in hand, 
were on the lookout in the road, near the first houses of the 
tu w'u : ^vhile at a short disfarice from them three more horse- 
men wtie on guard and seemed to be waiting also. 


636 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


The two sentinels in the middle of the road were Porthos 
and Aramis, and the other three were Mousqueton, Blaisois, 
and Griinaud. The last, however, when looked at more closely, 
was double ; for behind him on the crupper he carried Parry, 
who was to return to London with all the horses, which had 
been sold to the landlord to pay the expenses at his house. 
By means of this the four friends had brought away with them 
a sum which, if not considerable, was at least sufficient to pro- 
vide against delays or emergencies. 

D’Artagnan requested his friends to follow, and directed 
their lacqueys to dismount and unstrap their portmanteaus. 

Parry left his friends with regret ; they had wished him to 
accompany them to Prance, but this he had obstinately refused 
to do. 

“It is obvious,^’ said Mousqueton, “that he is thinking of 
Groslow.’^ 

It will be remembered that Groslow had cut open his head. 

The little troop rejoined Athos. But D’Artagnan had al- 
ready resumed his natural distrust ; he thought the quay too 
much deserted, the night too dark, the captain too civil. 

He had recounted to Aramis the incident we have just men- ; 
tioned, and Aramis, not less doubtful than himself, had consid- | 
erably added to his suspicions. I 

A slight clicking of the tongue against his teeth revealed the I 
Gascon’s anxiety to Athos. I 

“We have no time to be distrustful,” said Athos ; “ the boat I 
awaits us ; let us embark.” j 

“ Besides,” said Aramis, “ what is there to prevent our em- 
barking and being vigilant at the same time ? We can watch 
the captain.” 

“ And if he does not go right I will knock him down, that ’s i 
all ! ” 

“Well said, Porthos,” replied D’Artagnan. “Get in, then. 
Lead the way. Mousqueton.” 

And D’Artagnan stopped his friends, making the lacqueys 
precede them, that they might test the plank that led from the 
jetty to the boat. 

The three valets passed along it without accident. 

Athos followed them, then Porthos, then Aramis ; D’Arta- 
gnan brought up the rear, all the time shaking his head. 

“ What the devil is the matter with you, my friend?” saidj 
Porthos. “ ’ Pon my soul, you would make even a Cæsar afraid.” I 


THE FELUCCA “ THUNDERBOLT^ 


637 


“ The matter is,” replied D’ Artagnan, that I see at this 
port neither inspector, sentinel, nor custom-house officer/’ 

“ And do you complain of that, D’Artagnan ? ” said Porthos ; 
all goes as pleasant as flowers strewn on a bank.” 

“ All goes on too well, Porthos. But never mind — we must 
trust in God !” 

The moment the plank was withdrawn the captain seated 
himself at the rudder, and made a sign to one of the sailors, 
who, with a boat-hook, began to pilot them through the laby- 
rinth of vessels by which they were surrounded. 

The other sailor was already on the larboard side, with his 
oar in his hand. As soon as they could use their oars, his com- 
])anion having joined him, the boat glided swiftly through the 
water. 

‘‘ At last we are off,” said Porthos. 

“ Alas ! ” ejaculated the Comte de la Père, ‘‘ we depart 
alone ! ” 

“ Yes, but we are all four together, and without a scratch ; 
that is some consolation.” 

We are not yet on board,” said D’Artagnan ; beware of 
meetings ! ” 

Ah, my dear,” said Porthos, you are like the crows — you 
always sing of misfortune. Who could meet us on such a dark 
night as this, when one cannot see twenty yards away ? ” 

Yes, but to-morrow morning ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

To-morrow morning we shall be at Boulogne.” 

I hope so, with all my heart,” replied the Gascon, and I 
confess my weakness. Listen, Athos : you will laugh, but as 
long as we were within gunshot of the jetty, or the vessels 
alongside of it, I expected some frightful volley that would 
annihilate us all.” 

But,” said Porthos, with his rough good sense, ‘‘ the thing 
is impossible, for the captain and his sailors would have been 
killed at the same time.” 

Bah ! That would have been a mighty affair for Mor- 
daunt ! Do you suppose that he calculates to such a nicety as 
that ? ” 

“ At any rate,” said Porthos, am' very glad that D’Arta- 
gnan confesses that he is afraid.” 

Not only do I confess it, but I boast of it. I am not such 
a rhinoceros as you are. Oho ! what is that ? ” 

‘ The Thunderbolt,’ ” said the captain. 


638 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


‘‘ Are we there, then ? ” said Athos, in English. 

‘‘Almost,’’ replied the captain. 

A few more strokes of the oars brought them alongside of the 
little vessel. The sailor had seen the boat, and was in waiting 
with the ladder. Athos mounted first, with the perfect skill 
of a sailor ; Aramis, with the habit he had long acquired of 
mounting rope ladders, and of passing into forbidden places by 
means more or less ingenious ; D’Artagnan, like a chamois 
hunter ; and Porthos, by that development of pliysical 
strength which made up with him for other defects. 

With the lacqueys the operation was more difficult ; not for 
Grimaud, however, who, a kind of cat in a gutter, lean and 
lank, always found means to hoist himself up anywhere ; but 
for Mousqueton and Blaisois, whom the sailors were obliged to 
lift in their arms within reach of Porthos, who, seizing them 
by their shirt collar, placed them standing upright on the deck 
of the vessel. 

The captain led his passengers to their cabin ; it was one 
room, and they were to use it in common. He then prepared to 
leave them, under the pretence of having some orders to give. 

“ One minute,” said D’Artagnan. “ How many men have 
you on board, master ?” 

“ I do not understand,” he replied, in English. 

“ Ask him in his own language, Athos.” 

Athos put the question, as D’Artagnan had desired. 

“ Three men,” replied Groslow, “ not counting myself, of 
course.” 

D’Artagnan understood this ; for, while answering, the cap- 
tain had raised three fingers. 

“ Oh ! ” said D’Artagnaii, “ three ; I begin to regain my con- 
fidence. Never mind; while you settle yourselves I will take 
a survey of the vessel.” 

“ And I,” said Porthos, “ will go and see what there is for 


supper.” Ï 

“ That is a noble and generous project, Porthos ; put it into | 
execution. You, Athos, lend me Grimaud, who, by keeping | 
company with his friend Parry, has learnt to jabber some sort | 
of English ; he will serve as my interpreter.” 

“Go, Grimaud,” said Athos. 

There was a lantern on deck. D’Artagnan lifted it with one ii 
hand, took a pistol in the other, and said to the captain i 
“ Come ! ” I 


THE FELUCCA ^^THUNDERBOLT:' 639 

This and Goddam was all that he could remember of Eng- 
lish ! 

D’Artagnan reached the hatchway, and went down to the 
middle deck ; it was divided into three compartments : that 
into which D’Artagnan had descended, which might extend 
from the third mast to the extremity of the poop, and was, 
consequently, covered by the planks of the cabin in which 
Athos, Aramis, and Porthos were making their preparations 
for the night ; the second, which occui)ied the centre of the 
vessel, and which was intended for the occupation of the lac- 
queys ; the third, which extended under the prow ; that is to 
sa}", under the temporary cabin of the captain, where Mordaunt 
was concealed. 

‘‘ Oho ! said D’Artagnan, descending the hatchway and 
holding the lantern out before him ; “ what a number of 
barrels ! One might fancy one’s self in the cavern of Ali 
Baba.” 

“ The Thousand and One Nights ” had just been translated 
for the first time, and was very popular at that period. 

What did you say ? ” asked the captain, in English. 

D’Artagnan understood him by the intonation of his voice. 

I wish to know what there is in these barrels,” asked 
D’Artagnan, setting the lantern on one of the casks. 

The captain made a motion as if he would remount the 
ladder, but constrained himself. 

Oporto,” he replied. 

Oh ! port wine ? ” said D’Artagnan. That is a comfort ; 
we shall not die of thirst.” 

Then, turning to Groslow, who was wiping big drops of per- 
spiration from his brow : 

“ Are they full ? ” he asked. 

Grimaud translated the question. 

Some are full and some empty,” replied Groslow, in a voice 
which, in spite of all his efforts, betrayed his trepidation. 

D’Artagnan struck against the barrels with his knuckles, and 
found five full and the rest empty. He then introduced his 
lantern into the spaces between the barrels, to the great terror 
of the Englishman, and discovered that these spaces ' were 
unoccupied. ■ 

Come, let us go on,” he said. And he went to ^ 
that led to the second compartment. 

“ Wait,” said the Englishman, who had remained 


Ü40 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


still labouring under the agitation that we have described, — 
wait ; I have the key of that door/’ j 

And passing quickly before D’Artagnan and Grimaud, he I 
introduced the key into the lock with a trembling hand, and j 
they found themselves in the second compartment, where ; 
Mousqueton and Blaisois were preparing supper. There was | 
evidently nothing here to examine or find fault with ; all the i 
nooks and corners were distinctly perceptible, being illumined j 
by the lamp that lighted these worthy companions. i 

They passed on quickly and visited the third compartment. 

This was the sailors’ cabin. 

Three or four hammocks hung from the ceiling, a table 
fastened by a double rope fixed to its two ends, and two worm- 
eaten and rickety benches composed all the furniture. D’Ar- 
tagnan raised two or three bits of old sails hung against the 
walls, and seeing nothing suspicious he regained the deck by 
the hatchway. 

“ And this cabin ? ” he demanded. 

Grimaud translated the Musketeer’s words into English. 

This cabin is mine,” replied the captain ; would you like 
to go into it ? ” 

Open the door,” said D’Artagnan. 

The Englishman obeyed. D’Artagnan thrust out his arm 
with the lantern, poked his head into the half-opened door, 
and seeing that this cabin was a regular hole : 

Good ! ” said he ; if there is an army on board, it is not j 
concealed here. Let us see whether Porthos has found any- ' 
thing for supper.” 

And thanking the captain with a nod, he rejoined his friends 
in the state cabin. 

Porthos had found nothing ; or, at all events, if he had been 
successful fatigue had conquered hunger ; for, wrapped in his 
cloak, he was sleeping soundly when D’Artagnan returned. 

Athos and Araniis, rocked by the gentle motion of the first 
waves of the sea, were also just beginning to close their eyes, 

' they opened them at the noise made by the entrance of 
•'ompanion. 

' .? ” inquired Aramis. 

right,” answered D’Artagnan, ‘‘ and we may sleep in 

assurance Aramis let his head fall again, Athos 
ffectionate sign, and D’Artagnan, who, like Porthos, 


THE PORT WINE. 


641 


had more need of sleep than of food, dismissed Grimaud, and 
lay down in his cloak, with his sword drawn, and in such a 
posture that he barred the passage, so that it was impossible 
to enter the cabin without in some way disturbing him. 


CHAPTER LXXV. 

THE PORT WINE. 

In about ten minutes the gentlemen were asleep ; but not so 
the hungry and yet more thirsty valets. 

Blaisois and Mousqueton set about preparing their bed, 
which consisted of a plank and a valise ; while on a table, 
suspended like that in the adjoining cabin, swung to and fro, 
with the motion of the sea, a loaf of bread, a pot of beer, and 
three glasses. 

“ Cursed motion ! said Blaisois. I see that it is going to 
treat me just as it did when I came over.” 

And then to have nothing to fight the seasickness with ! ” 
responded Mousqueton, but barley bread and hop wine ! 
Pouah ! ” 

“ But your wicker bottle. Monsieur Mouston,” suggested 
Blaisois, who had just finished his preparations for the night, 

. and now came staggering up to the table, at which Mousque- 
ton had already taken his place, and where he at length man- 
aged to sit down, — ^^but your wicker bottle; have you lost 
it?” 

‘‘No,” replied Mousqueton, ^‘but Parry kept it. Those 
devilish Scotsmen are always thirsty. And you. Grim and,” 
asked Mousqueton of his companion, who just then came in, 
after having accompanied D’Artagnan in his survey, are you 
thirsty ? ” 

As a Scotsman,” laconically replied Grimaud. 

And he sat down near Blaisois and Mousqueton, drew an 
account book from his pocket, and began to settle the accounts 
of the fraternity, of which he was the steward. 

Oh ! la ! la ! ” exclaimed Blaisois, how bad my stomach 
; begins to feel ! ” 

! If that is the case,” said Mousqueton, in a doctoral tone, 
“ take a little nourishment.” 


642 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


You call that nourishment ? ” said Blaisois, accompanying 
a most piteous look with a disdainful motion of his finger, as 
he pointed to the barley bread and the jug of beer. 

Blaisois,” replied Mousqueton, do you not remember that 
bread is the genuine nourishment of the Frenchman, yet the 
Frenchman not always has it ? Ask Grimaud.” 

Yes — but the beer,” replied Blaisois, with a promptitude 
that did honour to the quickness of his spirit of repartee, — 
but the beer ; is it his true drink ? ” 

As for that,” said Mousqueton, caught in a dilemma and 
somewhat puzzled how to answer the question, I must con- 
fess that it is not, and that they have as great an antipathy to 
beer as the English have to wine.” 

What ! Monsieur Mouston,” said Blaisois, who this time 
doubted Mousqueton’s profound knowledge, although, in the 
ordinary affairs of life, he greatly admired it, — what ! 
Monsieur Mouston, do not the English like wine ? ” 

They detest it.” 

“ But yet I have seen them drink it.” 

As a penance ; and the proof is,” continued Mousqueton, 
bridling up, that an English prince died one day because 
they put him into a tub of Malmsey. I have heard the Abbé 
d’Herblay tell the story. ” 

The imbecile ! ” cried Blaisois. I wish I were in his 
place.” 

You can be,” said Grimaud, all the time casting up his 
figures. 

How so ? ” demanded Blaisois ; I can be ? ” 

Yes,” replied Grimaud, carrying four and adding it to the 
next column. 

I can be ? Explain yourself, M. Grimaud.” 

Mousqueton kept silence during Blaisois’s questions ; but it 
was easy to see, by the expression of his countenance, that it 
was not through indifference. 

Grimaud continued his calculation and summed up his total. 

Porto ! ” he then said, stretching out his hand in the direc- 
tion of the first compartment visited by D’Artagnan and him- 
self in company with the captain. j 

‘WVhat ! Those barrels which I saw through the half-’ 
opened door?” 1 

Porto ! ” repeated Grimaud, who had commenced a fresh 
arithmetical calculation. 


THE PORT WINE. 


643 


I have heard it said/’ replied Blaisois, addressing liiniself 
to Mousqueton, ^‘that Porto is an excellent Spanish wine.” 

Excellent,” said Mousqueton, lapping his lips. There is 
some in the Baron de Bracienx’s cellar.” 

Suppose we were to ask those Englishmen to sell us a 
bottle ? ” demanded the simple-hearted Blaisois. 

Sell ! ” exclaimed Mousqueton, recalled to his ancient 
marauding tendencies. It is plain enough, young man, that 
you have yet but little experience in the affairs of life. Why 
should you buy when you can take ? ” 

Take ! ” said Blaisois ; covet your neighbour's goods ! It 
seems to me that the thing is forbidden.” 

Where ? ” demanded Mousqueton. 

‘‘ In the commandments of God, or of the Church, I do not 
remember which, but what I do know is that it is said, ‘ Thou 
shalt not covet the goods of another — nor his spouse.’ ” 

“Now, that is a childish reason, M. Blaisois,” said Mouque- 
ton, in his most patronising tone. “ Yes, I repeat it — child- 
ish. Where have you evervseen in the Scriptures, I should 
like to ask, that the English are our neighbours ? ” 
ii “ Nowhere, that is true,” replied Blaisois ; “ at least I can- 
not remember it.” 

“A childish reason, I again repeat,” continued Mousqueton. 

“ If you had been at war ten years, like Grimaud and me, 
my dear Blaisois, you would know how to make a distinction 
I between the goods of your neighbour and those of an enemy. 
Now, an Englishman is an enemy, I think; and this Port wine 
belongs to the English, therefore it belongs to us, ' since we 
are Erenchmen. Do you not know the proverb, ^ So much 
taken from an enemy ’ ? ” — 

This eloquence, supported by all the authority that Mous- 
queton drew from his long experience, astounded Blaisois. He 
hung his head as if to collect his faculties, aud then, suddenly 
raising his brow like a man armed with an irresistible argument : 

“ But our masters,” said he, “ will they be of your opinion, 
Monsieur Mouston ? ” 

Mousqueton smiled with disdain. 

“A mighty fine thing, indeed,” said he, “ Avould it be for me 
to go and disturb the rest of these illustrious noblemen, to say 
to them, ^ Gentlemen, your servant Mouston is thirsty ; would 
you allow him to drink ? ’ What does it signify to M. de 
Bracieux, I ask you, whether I am thirsty or not ? ” 


644 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


It is a very expensive kind of wine/’ said Blaisois, shak- 
ing his head. 

If it were potable gold, Monsieur Blaisois,” replied Mous- 
queton, our masters would not debar themselves from it. 
Take note that the Baron de Bracieux alone is rich enough to 
drink a tun of Port, if he were obliged to pay a pistole a drop 
for it. Now, I do not see,” continued Mousqueton, becoming 
more and more magniloquent in his pride, since the masters 
do not refrain from it, why the valets should refrain either.” 

And Mousqueton, rising up, took the jug of beer, every drop 
of which he emptied into the scupper-hole, and then stalked i 
majestically to the door that led to the other compartment. 

Ah ! fastened,” said he ; these devilish English — how j 
suspicious they are ! ” 

‘‘ Fastened ! ” said Blaisois, in a tone of disappointment not 
less keen than Mousqueton’s. Ah ! plague take it ! It is i 
unlucky, especially as my stomach feels more and more upset.” ; 

Mousqueton turned to Blaisois with such a piteous counte- i 
nance that it was evident he shared in a high degree the i 
worthy fellow’s disappointment. 

Fastened ! ” he repeated. - | 

But,” hazarded Blaisois, I have heard you relate, M. ' 
Mouston, that once in your youth, at Chantilly I think, you , 
supported your master and yourself by taking partridges in a ; 
net, carp by a line, and bottles with a lasso.” ; 

Certainly I did,” responded Mousqueton ; it is the exact i 
truth, and Griniaud can bear witness to it. But then there 
was an airhole to the cellar, and the wine was in bottles. I j 
cannot throw the lasso through this partition, or draw to me ,'i 
with a pack-thread a cask of wine that may perhaps weigh two ! 
hundred weight.” 

‘‘No ; but you may raise two or three planks of the partition 
wall,” said Blaisois, “ and make a hole in one of the barrels I 
with a gimlet.” 

Mousqueton opened his eyes immeasurably wide, and look- j 
ing at Blaisois like a man astonished at finding in another i 
man qualities for which he had not given him credit : j 

“ It is true,” said he, “ that might be done ; but a chisel * 
is wanted to start the boards, and a gimlet to pierce the ' 
barrel.” i 

“ The tool-case ! ” said Grimaud, who had just finished 
balancing his accounts, 


645 


7'///' PO in ^VTSK. 

‘'Ah, yes , the iool-c^^.^e ! ' snir» Mou.^(iurt,oii ; “ that I should 
not have thought of it ! ’’ 

Grimaud, in fact, was not only the steward of the troop, but 
also its armourer ; and besides an account-book, he had a tool- 
case. Now, as Grimaud was an extremely cautious and provi- 
dent man, this tool-case, carefully rolled up in his valise, was 
furnished with every instrument of ordinary necessity. 

It therefore contained a gimlet of a reasonable size. 

Mousqueton seized it. 

Nor had he far to seek for a chisel. The poignard he carried 
at his girdle would be an excellent substitute for it. Mous- 
queton now sought for a corner where the boards were a little 
separated, and this he had not much difficulty in finding ; so he 
set to work forthwith. 

Blaisois watched his proceedings with admiration mingled 
with impatience, venturing an occasional observation, replete 
with intelligence and lucidity, on the mode of drawing a nail 
or getting a leverage. 

In a very short time Mousqueton had pried off three planks. 

“ There ! ” said Blaisois. 

Mousqueton was the exact antipode of the frog in the fable, 
which thought itself larger than it really was. Unfortunately, 
although he had managed to diminish his name by one-third, 
it was not the same with his paunch. He tried to pass through 
the opening that he had made, but perceived with grief that he 
must remove two or three more boards at least, to make the 
hole for his size. 

He heaved a sigh and drew back to renew his labours. 

But Grimaud, who had finished his accounts, had got up, 
and, being profoundly interested in the operation that was 
going on, had approached his two companions, and seen the 
fruitless efforts made by Mousqueton to reach the land of 
promise. 

“I ! ’’ said Grimaud. 

This single word from him was wmrth a whole sonnet, which 
alone, as is well known, is worth a whole poem. 

Mousqueton turned round. 

“ What, you ? ” demanded he. 

“ I will pass through.^’ 

“ It is true,’’ said Mousqueton, looking at his friend’s long, 
lank figure, “ you will pass, and very easily too.” 

“ That is all right,” said Blaisois ; “ he knows the full 


646 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


barrels, for he has been already in the cellar with the Che va- ; 
lier d’Artagnan. Let M. Grimaud pass through, Monsieur 
Mouston. ” 

“ I could have got through as well as Grimaud,’’ said Mous - 1 
queton, a little piqued. 

Yes ; but it would have taken longer, and I am very thirsty. 
My stomach feels worse and worse.’’ J 

Go through, then, Grimaud,” said Mousqueton, giving to 
him who was about to enter upon the expedition in his place j 
the beer-jug and the gimlet. ! 

Rinse the glasses,” said Grimaud. And giving Mousque- 
ton a friendly nod intended as a request that he would pardon 
his finishing an expedition so brilliantly commenced by another, 
like a serpent he glided through the opening and disappeared. 

Blaisois seemed ravished with delight, full of ecstasy. Of all 
the exploits performed since their arrival in England by the 
extraordinary men to whom they had the fortune of being 
attached, this positively seemed to him the most miracîulous. 

Yoii will now see,” said Mousqueton, looking at Blaisois 
with an air of superiority which Blaisois did not attempt to 
resent, — you will now see, Blaisois, how we old soldiers 
drink when we are thirsty.” 

‘‘ The cloak,” said Grimaud, from the bottom of the hold. 
That is right,” said Mousqueton. 

What does he want ? ” inquired Blaisois. 

“ That we should cover the opening with a cloak.” 

What for ? ” demanded Blaisois. 

“ Simpleton !” said Mousqueton; what if any one should 
come in ? ” 

“ Ah ! that ’s true ! ” exclaimed Blaisois, with still more per- 1 
ceptible admiration. But he will not be able to see clearly.” i 
Grimaud always sees clearly,” replied Mousqueton, by | 
night as well as by day.” j 

He is very fortunate,” said Blaisois. When I have no i 
candle I cannot take two steps without knocking myself ' 
against something.” | 

That ’s because you have not seen service,” said Mousque- ' 
ton ; if you had you would have learnt to pick up a needle in | 
a dark closet. But silence ! Some one is coming, I think.” | 

Mousqueton gave a low whistle, a signal of alarm familiar 
to .he lacqueys in the days of their youth, resumed his place at 
the table, and made a sign to Blaisois to do the same. 


THE PORT WINE. 


647 


1 

I Blaisois obeyed. 

The door opened, and two men made their appearance, en- 
I veloped in their cloaks. 

s ‘‘ What ! ’’ said one of them ; not yet in bed at a quarter 
[ past eleven ? It is contrary to rules. In a quarter of an hour 
li let every light be out and every one snoring.” 

The two men went to the door of the compartment into 
j which Grimaud had crept, opened the door, entered, and shut 
jj it after them. 

jj Ah ! ” said Blaisois, shuddering, he is lost.” 

I; “ Grimaud is a sharp old fox,” muttered Mousqueton. 

I And they waited with watchfiil ears and bated breath. 

I Ten minutes glided away, during which they heard no sound 
' that could make them suspect that Grimaud was detected. . 
j| When this period had elapsed. Mousqueton and Blaispis saw 
the door reopen. The two men in cloaks came out, shut the 
door with the same precaution that they had used on entering, 
and departed, renewing their injunctions to retire to bed and 
! put out the lights. 

Shall we obey ? ” demanded Blaisois. “ All this seems to 
j me crooked.” 

“ They said in a quarter of an hour — we have still live 
minutes,” replied Mousqi^ton. 

' “ Supposing we inform our masters of this ? ” 

1 ^^ Let us wait for jQftimaud,” said Mousqueton. 

But if they have kiHed lîîfff ? ” 

Grimaud would hate cried out.” 

\ “ You know that ^e is almost dumb.” 

I We should have heard the blow.” 

But if he does not return ? ” 
j “ Here he is ! ” 

! In fact, at this very moment Grimaud pushed aside the 
I cloak that concealed the opening, and thrust through that 
I opening a face as pale as death ; his eyes, starting with friglit, 
j offered to the sight a small pupil in the centre of a large white 
! circle. He held in his hand the beer-jug full of some sort of 
i substance, brought it into the range of the light by the smoky 
! lamp, and murmured the simple monosyllable O/i ! ” with an 
I expression of such profound terror that Mousqueton recoiled 
i in consternation and Blaisois thought to faint away. i,t 
1 Both of them, however, cast a look of curiosity into the jug. 
It was full of gunpowder ! 


648 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Once convinced that the vessel was loaded with gunpowder 
instead of wine, Griinaud rushed to the hatchway, and with 
one bound reached the cabin, where the four friends were 
sleeping. Having reached the cabin, he gently pushed open 
the do« r, which in opening iniinediately awoke D’Artagnan, 
who \\^as lying down behind it. 

Scarcely had he seen Grimaud’s agitated face, before he 
understood that something extraordinary had happened, and 
was just going to utter an exclamation. But Grimaud, with 
a motion more rapid than speech itself, put his finger on his 
lips, and, with a puff that no one would have suspected from 
such a lean body, blew out the little night-lamp at three 
paces’ distance. 

D’Artagnan raised himself on his elbow. Grimaud knelt 
down, and then, with outstretched neck and all his senses 
unnaturally excited, he poured into his ear a recital which, to 
say the truth, was of itself sufficiently dramatic to need no aid 
from action or the play of the features. 

During this recital Athos, Aramis, and Porthos were sleep- 
ing like men who have had no rest for a week. In the middle 
deck Mousqueton was knotting his points by way of precau- 
tion ; while Blaisois, overwhelmed with consternation, his 
hair bristling on his head, tÿed to do the same thing. 

This is what had occurred : 


Scarcely had Grimaud disa ^eare d t^^^gh the opening, and 
'■ '' ^ ‘ ‘ iSpïft ' ' ’ ^ ' 


found himself in the first coiirpUrtmeiit, before he began his 
search, and soon discovered a barrel. HyPappM upon it : it 
w^s empty. He then went to another : that was also empty. 
Blit the third on which he tried the experiment gave forth 
such a dull sound that there was no possibility of mistake. 
Grimaud was sure that it was full. 

So he therefore stopped at this, felt about for a place where 
he might pierce it with his gimlet, and, whilst feeling, laid his 
hand upon a spigot. 

Good ! ” said Grimaud ; this will save me trouble.” 

And he held down the jug, turned the spigot, and felt that 
the contents were gently flowing from one receptacle to the 
other. 

Grimaud, having first taken the precaution to close the 
spigot, was just going to raise the jug to his lips, being too 
conscientious to carry any liquor to his companions for the 
(piality of which he could not answer, when he heard the 


THE PORT WINE. 


649 


signal of alarm given by Mousqueton. Suspecting some night 
round, he slipped in between two barrels and hid behind a 
cask. 

A minute after the door opened and shut again, aft^r hav- 
ing afforded entrance to the two men in cloaks. 

One of them bore a glass lantern, carefully closed, nd so 
high that the flame could not reach the top. Moreover, the 
glass itself was covered with a sheet of white paper, which 
softened, or rather absorbed, both the light and the heat. 

This man was Groslow. 

The other held in his hand something that was long, flexi- ’'V: 
ble, and rolled up, like a whitish rope. His face was covered 
b}’ a very broad-brimmed hat. Grimaud, thinking that the 
same desire as his own had brought them to the hold, and 
that, like himself, they came to pay a visit to the Port wine, 
squatted closer and closer behind his cask, saying to himself 
that, after all, should he be discovered, the crime was not very 
great. 

When the two men reached the barrel behind which Grimaud 
was concealed, they stopped. 

Have you got the fuse ? said the one that carried the 
lantern. 

Here it is,’’ replied the^p^J^^er. 

When the last one spoke Grimaud started, and felt a shud- 
i der strike even to the niaitow of his bones. He cautiously rose 
I so ^that his Imad^ might surmount the top of the cask, and 
1 under the large nat he discovered Mordaunt’s pale face. 

I “ How long will match last ? ” demanded he. 

About flve minutes, more or less,” said the captain. _ 

This voice also was known to Grimaud. His eyes went 
from one to the other, and after Mordaunt he recognised 
Groslow. 

Then,” said Mordaunt, you must go and warn your men 
i to be ready, without telling them why. Is the boat following 
' the vessel ?” ^ 

As a dog follows its master, at the end of a hempen 
leash.” 

^ Then, when the clock points to a quarter-past twelve call 
together your men, and get into the boat without noise.” 

After having lighted the slow match ? ” 

That is my business. I wish to be certain of my ven- 
geance. Are the oars in the boat ? ” 


650 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Everything is ready.’’ ' 

“Good.” 5 

“ Then all is settled.” ! 

Mordaunt knelt down and fastened one end of his match toji 
the spigot, that he might have nothing more to do than to 
ignite the other end. Then, having finished this operation, hei 
drew out his watch. 

“ You understand, at a quarter-past twelve,” he said, rising' 
up ; “ that is to say,” — he looked at his watch, — “ in twenty I 
minutes.” i 

“ Perfectly, sir,” replied Groslow ; “ only I would observe, ’ 
for the last time, that there is considerable danger in the office j 
you reserve for yoiirself, and that it would be much better -for ; 
you to set one of the men to Jfii’e the train.” 

“ My dear Groslow,” said Mordaunt, “ you know the French 
proverb : ‘ One is never welt served except by one^s-self.’ I will 
put this into practice.” 

Grimaud had heard, if he had not understood, everything ; 
but the scene he witnessed supplied any defect there might be ! 
in his comprehension of the language. He had seen and 
recognised the two mortal enemies of the Musketeers ; he j 
had seen Mordaunt arrange the fuse ; he had heard the i 
proverb, which, for his greater facility, Mordaunt had repeated ' 
in French. Then, lastly, . he had felt and felt again the con- 
tents of the pitcher he held in his hand ; and, instead of the 
liquid that Mousqueton and Blaisoi^ ^ÿe^ted, the grains of a 
thick powder crackled and cruinbled under Ins fingers. 

Mordaunt and the captain depart^®'#-' At the door they 
stopped and listened. 

“ Do you hear how they sleep ? ” said Mordaunt. 

In fact, Porthos’s snoring was heard through the boarding. 

“ God delivers them into our hands ! ” said Groslow. 

“ And, this time, the devil himself could not save them ! ” 
said Mordaunt. 

And they both left the place. 


THE PORT WINE, 


651 


CHAPTER LXXVI. 

THE PORT WINE. {Continuation.) 

j Grimaud waited till he heard the bolt grate in the lock ; 

I and when he was quite sure that he was alone, lie groped 
I along the partition. 

“ Ah ! said he, wiping the large drops of perspiration 
I from his forehead, how fortunate it was that Blaisois was 
I thirsty ! ” 

He made haste to pass through his opening, thinking still 
! that he was dreaming ; but the sight of the powder in the 
j jug proved to him that this dream was a deadly nightmare. 

D^Artagnan, as may be imagined, heard all these details 
i with increasing interest; and without^ waiting till Grimaud 
had finished, he arose without any noise, and applying his 
mouth to Aramis^s ear, who slept on his left, and touching his 
shoulder at the same time, to prevent any hasty movement : 
Chevalier,” said he, get up without the slightest noise.” 

I Aramis awoke. D’Artagnan repeated the injunction, at the 
I same time pressing his hand. Aramis obeyed. 

I “ You have Athos at your left,” said he ; caution him, as 
I I have cautioned you.” 

I Aramis easily awoke Athos, whose sleep was light, as is 
generally the case in delicate and nervous temperaments ; but 
they had more difficulty in rousing Porthos. He was going 
to ask for the causes and reasons for this interruption of his 
sleep, which appeared to him to be very unpleasant, when 
H’Artagnan, in lieu of all explanation, laid his hand on his 
i mouth. 

Then our Gascon, stretching out his arms and drawing 
them all to him, encircled the three heads in such a manner 
that they touched one another. 

Eriends,” said he, we must instantaneously leave this 
vessel, or we are all dead men.” 

Bah ! ” said Athos ; what now ? ” 

Ho you know who is the captain of this vessel ? ” 

^^No.” 

! Captain Groslow ! ” 

A shudder of the three Musketeers informed H’Artagnan 
that his speech began to make some impression on his friends. 


652 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


G-roslow ! ’’ said Aramis ; the devil ! ” 

‘‘ Who is this Groslow ? ” demanded Porthos. I cannot 
remember him/^ 

“ He who broke Parry’s head, and who is at this moment 
preparing to break ours.” 

“ Oho ! ” 

And his mate — do you know who he is ? ” 

His mate ? He has none,” said Athos. There is no | 
mate in a felucca carrying four men.” I 

“ Ay, but M. Groslow is not an ordinary captain. He has a j 
mate, and that mate is M. Mordaunt.” | 

This time it was more than a shudder among the Muske- ! 
teers — it was almost a cry. These invincible men were sub- !j 
jected to the mysterious and fatal influence that this nameii 
exercised over them, and felt a%ort of terror merely to hear it 
spoken. 

“ What can we do ? ” said Athos. 

Take possession of the felucca,” said Aramis. 

And kill him,” said Porthos. 

“ The felucca is mined,” said D’Artagnan. ‘‘ Those barrels 
that I took for casks full of Port wine are barrels of gun-i 
powder. When Mordaunt finds himself detected, he will 
blow up everything — friends and foes ; and, faith ! he is a ^ 
gentleman of too bad a character for me to wish to make my ! 
appearance in his society, either in heaven or in hell.” 

‘‘ You have, then, a plan ? ” demanded Athos. 

Yes.” 

What is it ? ” 

Have you confidence in me ? ” ■ 

Command,” said the Musketeers at the same moment. I 

Well, then, come! ” And D’Artagnan went to a window 
so low as to be like a porthole, but large enough for a man to 
crawl through. He turned and opened it cautiously. j 

That is the way,” said he. 

“ The devil ! ” said Aramis ; it is cold, my dear friend.” 

Remain if you like ; but I forewarn you that you will soon 
be hot enough.” 

But we cannot reach land by swimming.” 

The boat is following in our wake ; we will reach it and 
cut the rope — that’s all. Come along, gentlemen.” 

One moment,” said Athos ; ‘^ouv lacqueys ? ” ■ 

Here we are,” said Mousqueton and Blaisois, whom Gri- 


/ 


THE PORT WINE. 653 

maud had brought, so as to concentrate all their forces in the 
cabin, and who, without being seen, had entered by the hatch- 
way, which was next the cabin. 

Yet the three friends remained motionless before the 
terrible sight that D’Artagnan had disclosed to them by rais- 
ing the window, and which they could see through this narrow 
opening. 

In fact, whoever has once seen it, well knows that nothing 
is more profoundly impressive than a swelling sea, rolling its 
dark billows along, with their hoarse murmurs, under the wan 
light of a winter’s moon. 

Cordieu ! AYe hesitate, it seems,” said D’Artagnan. If we 
waver, what will our lacqueys do ? ” 

“ I do not hesitate,” said Grimaud. 

Sir,” said Blaisois, I warn you, I only know how to swim 
in rivers.” 

And I do not know how to swim at all,” said Mousqueton. 

In the meantime D’Artagnan had slipped through the open- 
ing. 

“ So your mind is made up, is it ? ” asked Athos. 

Yes,” replied the Gascon. Come, Athos, you, who are 
the perfection of a man, command intellect to govern matter. 
You, Aramis, give the word to the lacqueys ; and you, Porthos, 
kill any one that may oppose us.” 

And D’Artagnan, after having pressed Athos’s hand, choos- 
ing the moment when by the pitching of the felucca the stern 
dipped, had only to let himself slip into the water, which 
already reached up to his waist. 

Athos followed him, even before the vessel had pitched for- 
ward ; and as she rose, the rope that fastened the boat to her 
stern was seen whipping from the water. 

D’Artagnan swam to this rope and reached it. 

There he held on to it by one hand, with his head just 
above the surface of the water. An instant afterwards he 
was joined by Athos. 

Two more heads were now seen : they were those of Aramis 
and Grimaud. 

Blaisois disturbs me,” said Athos. Did you not hear 
him say, D’Artagnan, that he only knew how to swim in 
rivers ? ” 

“ When one can swim at all, he can swim anywhere,” said 
D’Artagnan, To the boat ! to the boat ! ” 


654 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


But Porthos ? I cannot see him.” 

Porthos is coming ; do not trouble yourself about him ; he j 
swims like Leviathan himself.” i 

In fact, Porthos had not yet made his appearance, in con- | 
sequence of a scene, half ludicrous, half dramatic, that was 
going on with him, Blaisois, and Mousqueton as actors. i 

These last, frightened by the noise of the waves and the j 
whistling of the wind, terrified by the sight of that dark abyss j 
of waters boiling up from the deep, drew back instead of I 
advancing. j 

Come, come ! ” said Porthos ; ^^into the water with you ! ” 

But,” said Mousqueton, I cannot swim ; leave me here.” 

And me too,” said Blaisois. 

I assure you that I should only be in the way in that little 
boat,” continued Mousqueton. 

And I am sure that I should be drowned before I reached 
it,” added Blaisois. 

“Well, then, I will choke you both, if you do not get out ! ” 
said Porthos, seizing them by the throat. “ Out with you, 
Blaisois ! ” 

A groan, stified by Porthos’s iron hand, was the sole response 
of Blaisois ; for the giant, holding him by the neck and heels, 
made him glide like a plank through the window, and sent 
him head-foremost into the sea. 

“ Now, Mouston,” said Porthos, “ I hope you do not mean 
to abandon your master ? ” 

“ Ah, sir ! ” replied Mousqueton, with tears in his eyes, why 
did you resume service ? We were so well off at the Chateau 
de Pierrefonds ! ” And without any other u’eproach he became 
passive and obedient ; and, whether from real devotion or from 
the example given in the case of Blaisois, Mousqueton pitched 
head-foremost into the sea — a sublime action in either case, 
for Mousqueton thought himself a dead man. 

But Porthos was not the person thus to abandon his faithful 
companion. The master followed the valet so close that the 
plunge of each body made but one and the same sound ; and 
when Mousqueton returned to the surface, quite blinded, he 
found himself supported by Porthos’s large hand, and gliding 
toward the boat with the majesty of a marine god, and with- 
out any movement whatever. 

At the same moment Porthos 'saw something whirling round 
within reach of his hand, and, seizing this something by the I 


FA TALITY. 


•665 


; hair, found it was Blaisois, to whose aid Athos was just then 
i coining. 

Return, Count ; I have no need of you,” said Porthos. 
And by one vigorous kick he rose like the giant Adamastor 
above the waves, and in three strokes rejoined his compan- 
ions. 

D’Artagnan, Aramis, and Grimaud assisted Mousqueton and 
Blaisois into the boat. Then came Porthos, who, in clamber- 
ing over the side, nearly upset the little craft. 

“ And Athos ? ” inquired D’Artagnan. 

Here I am,” replied Athos, who, like a general covering 
the retreat, wished to be the last to enter the boat, and was 
holding on by its gunwale. “ Are you all safe ? ” 

All,” said D’Artagnan. Have you got your poignard, 
Athos ? ” 

Yes.” 

Then cut the rope and come in.” 

Athos drew his poignard from his girdle and cut the rope : 
the felucca left them astern and the boat remained stationary, 
without any other motion than that given by the waves. 

Come in, Athos,” said D’Artagnan. 

And he gave his hand to the Comte de la Père, who also 
took his place in the boat. 

It was time,” said the Gascon, and you will soon see 
something curious.” 


CHAPTER LXXVII. 

FATALITY. 

Scarcely had D’Artagnan finished these words, before a 
whistle was heard on board the felucca, which began to be lost 
in the mist and darkness. 

‘‘ That, as you can well understand,” said the Gascon, 
‘‘ means something.” 

At the same moment a lantern was seen on the deck, delin- 
eating some shadows behind it. 

Then suddenly a terrible cry of despair was heard across 
the deep ; and as if this cry had chased away the clouds, the 
veil that hid the moon was rent asunder, and the grey sails 
and dark rigging of the felucca were seen, traced against the 


656 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


sky, silvered by its wan light. Dark shadows were running 
up and down the deck in dismay, and piteous cries accompanied 
their insensate course. 

In the midst of these cries Mordaunt was seen on the top of 
the poop, with a torch in his hand. 

Those shadows running up and down on the deck were 
Groslow and his men whom he had collected at the time set by 
Mordaunt. Mordaunt himself, after he had listened at the 
cabin door and assured himself that the Musketeers were 
still asleep, had gone down into the hold. 

In fact, who could possibly have suspected what had just 
occurred ? 

So Mordaunt had opened the door — hurried to the slow- 
match ; eagerly thirsting for revenge and confident that he 
should now obtain it, he had set fire to the fuse. 

In the meantime, Groslow and his men had assembled at 
the stern. 

Haul in the painter,” said Groslow, and pull the boat 
alongside.” 

One of the men climbed into the chains, seized the rope 
and drew it toward him. It came without any resistance 
whatever. 

‘^The rope is cut,” cried the sailor, “ and the boat is gone ! ” 

What ! the boat gone ? ” cried Groslow, rushing toward 
the chains ; it is impossible ! ” 

‘‘ It is so, however,” said the sailor ; ‘‘ look yourself : there 
is nothing in our wake ; besides, here is the end of the rope.” 

It was then that Groslow uttered that cry which the 
Musketeers had heard. 

“ What is the matter ? ” exclaimed Mordaunt, who, emerg- 
ing from the hatchway, also rushed to the stern, with his 
torch in his hand. 

“ Our enemies are escaping us ; they have cut the rope, and 
are off in the boat.” 

Mordaunt made but one leap to the cabin, which he burst 
open with a kick. 

Empty ! ” he cried. Oh, the demons ! ” 

“We must pursue them, ” said Groslow ; “ they cannot ba 
far off, and we will run them down and sink them.” 

“ Yes — but the train ! ” replied Mordaunt ; “I have set 
fire to it ! ” 

“ To what ? ” 


FATALITY. 


66 


; To the match.” 

A thousand thunders ! ” yelled Groslow, rushing toward 
ithe hatchway. Perhaps there is still time.” 

Mordaunt — his features convulsed by hatred even more 
than by terror, and looking up to heaven with his haggard 
eyes as if to launch forth one last blasphemy — only re- 
sjmnded by a fearful laugh. Then, casting his torch before 
him, he flung himself headlong into the sea. 

At the same moment, and just as Groslow was setting his 
foot on the first step of the hatchway, the vessel yawned like 
the crater of a volcano, and a stream of fire rushed heaven- 
ward, with an explosion equal to that of a hundred pieces of 
cannon thundering forth at the same time. The air appeared 
to be on fire, furrowed as it was by the broken masses of burn- 
ing wreck. Then this awful light disappeared, the shattered 
pieces of wreck fell one after the other into the mighty waters, 
hissing in the abyss, where they were extinguished ; and in 
the next moment, with the exception of the vibration of the 
air, it might have been supposed that nothing had happened. 

The felucca had disappeared from the surface of the deep, 
and Groslow and his three men were annihilated. 

The four friends had witnessed all this ; not one of the 
details of this fearful drama had escaped them. One moment, 
when revealed by the dazzling light that had illumined the sea 
for a league around, they might have been seen, each in a 
different attitude, and expressive of that terror which, in spite 
of their hearts of bronze, they could not wholly express. Then 
the fiery rain fell all around them ; the volcano was extin- 
guished ; and, as we have said, everything returned to dark- 
ness — the floating boat and the roaring ocean. 

They remained for a moment silent and dejected. Porthos 
and D’Artagnan, who had each taken an oar, held them sus- 
pended motionless above the water, leaning their whole 
weight upon them, and grasping them with convulsed hands. 

‘‘ Faith ! ” said Aramis, who was the first to break this 
death -like silence, this time, I imagine, all is finished.” 

“ Here, my Lords ! help ! help ! ” cried some one, in a 
lamentable voice, the accents of which came across the waters 
like those of some spirit of the deep. 

All looked at one another. Even Athos was startled. 

It is he — ’t is his voice ! ” said he. 

All of them remained silent ; for all had, like Athos, recog- 


^8 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


nised his voice. But their eyes, with dilated pupils, turned in 
the direction where the vessel had disappeared, making incredi- 
ble efforts to pierce through the darkness. 

In a moment they could distinguish a man, who approached j 
them, swimming strongly. 

Athos slowly stretched out his arm, pointing him out to his 
companions. ; 

“ Yes, yes,” said D’Artagnan, I can see him well enough.” 

What ? He here again ! ” said Porthos, puffing like a 
blacksmith’s forge. Well, he certainly is made of iron ! ” 

‘‘ Oh, my Grod ! ” murmured Athos. 

Aramis and D’Artagnan whispered to each other. 

Mordaunt made a few more strokes, and then, raising one 
hand above the water, as a signal of distress : 

Pity, gentlemen ! pity, in the n^me of Heaven ! My 
strength is failing me and I shall die ! ’ 

The voice thus imploring assistance was so pathetic that it 
excited compassion in Athos’s heart. 

Unhappy wretch ! ” said he. 

Truly, ” said D’Artagnan, nothing more was wanted than 
that you should pity him. I verily believe that he is swim- 
ming toward us. Does he fancy, then, that we shall take him 
in ? Kow, Porthos, row.” And setting the example, D ’Arta- 
gnan plunged his oar into the sea, and with two pulls sent the 
boat twenty strokes from him. 

Oh ! you will not abandon me ! You will not leave me to 
perish ! You will not be wholly devoid of pity ! ” cried Mor- 
daunt. 

Aha ! ” said Porthos ; “ I fancy that we have got you at 
last, my fine fellow, and that you have now no other port of 
refuge than hell.” 

Oh, Porthos ! ” murmured the Comte de la Père. 

Let me alone, Athos. Verily, you become perfectly ridic- 
ulous, with your everlasting generosities ! I positively de- 
clare that if he comes within ten feet of the boat, I will split 
his head with the oar.” 

Oh ! for mercy’s sake, do not leave me, gentlemen ! 
Mercy ! — have pity on me ! ” cried the young man, his pant- 
ing respiration sometimes making the icy water bubble up 
when his head almost disappeared under the billows. • 
D’Artagnan had never taken his eye from Mordaunt, and 
having now finished his conference with Aramis he got up. 


FATALITY. 


659 


Sir,” said he, addressing the swimmer, be off with you, I 
Î beg of you. Your repentance is too recent for us to have 
. much confidence in it. Eemember that the vessel in which 
! you wished to grill us all is still smoking some feet under 
i water, and that the situation in which you are at present is 
I a bed of roses compared with that in which you wished to 
place us, and in which you have placed M. Groslow and his 
companions.” 

Gentlemen,” said Mordaunt, in accents of utter despair, 

I swear to you that my repentance is sincere. Gentlemen, 
I am so young — I am scarcely twenty -three years old ! 
Gentlemen, I have been dragged along by a natural resent- 
ment ; I wished to avenge my mother ; and 3^011 yourselves 
would all have done as I have.” 

Pooh ! ” said D’Artagnan, seeing that Athos was becom- 
ing more and more affected; “that depends.” 

Mordaunt had not more than three or four strokes to make 
to reach the boat, for the approach of death seemed to give 
him supernatural strength. 

“ Alas !” he replied, “ I must die, then. You will kill the 

son as you killed the mother ! And yet I was not to blame. 

According to all rules, human and divine, a son ought to 
avenge his mother. And besides,” added he, clasping his 

hands, if it be a crime, as I repent, and as I demand par- 

don for it, I ought to be forgiven.” 

And, as if his strength failed him, he appeared to be no 
longer able to keep himself above water, and a wave passed 
over his head, stifling his voice. 

“ Oh ! this lacerates my heart ! ” said Athos. 

Mordaunt reappeared. 

“ And as for me,” said D’Artagnan, “ I say that it is nec- 
essary to put an end to all this. You, sir, — the assassin of 
your uncle — the executioner of King Charles — the incendi- 
ary, — I promise to let you sink to the bottom, or, if you come 
within reach of the boat, to split your head with the oar.” 

Mordaunt, as if in the agonies of despair, made a stroke. 
D’Artagnan grasped his oar with both his hands. Athos 
rose up. 

“ D’Artagnan ! D’Artagnan ! ” he exclaimed : “ D’Artagnan, 
my son ! I beseech you ! The unhappy wretch is dying ; and 
it is frightful to let a man die without stretching out a hand 
to him, when it is only necessary to do so to save him. Oh, 


660 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


niy heart forbids such an action ! I cannot resist its impulses ; T; 
he must live ! ” 

Mordieu ! ” replied D’Artagnan, why not at once give , 
yourself up, bound hand and feet, to this wretch ? That will 
soon be done. Ah ! Comte de la Fère, you wish to perish ^ 
through him. Well, then, I — your son, as you call me — I ' 
do not wish it.’’ 

This was the first time that D’Artagnan had ever resisted 
an appeal which Athos made to him as his son. 

Aramis coolly drew his sword, which he had brought be- 
tween his teeth as he swam. ] 

If he lays a finger on the edge of the boat I will cut his 
hand off, regicide that he is,” said he. 

“ And I,” said Porthos, — wait ” — 

What are you going to do ? ” asked Aramis. ; 

Throw myself into the water and strangle him.” ^ 

Oh, gentlemen ! ” exclaimed Athos, with irresistible J 
pathos, “ let us be men — let us be Christians ! ” ^ 

D’Artagnan emitted a sigh like a groan, Aramis lowered I 
his sword, Porthos sat down again. i 

Look at him,” said Athos, — look ! Death is painted on j 
his face, his powers are exhausted ; one minute more, and he | 
sinks to the bottom of the abyss. Ah ! do not entail upon me \ 
this horrible remorse — do not force me to die of shame, my i 
friends ! Grant me the life of this unhappy man — I will bless r' 
you — I will ” — • 

“ I am dying ! ” murmured Mordaunt ; help ! help ! ” 

Let us gain one minute,” said Aramis, leaning down to ' 
D’Artagnan’s ear ; “ one stroke of the oar,” he added, whisper- 
ing to Porthos. 

D’Artagnan made no answer, either by word or gesture ; he ' 
began to feel himself moved, partly by Athos’s entreaties, 
partly by the spectacle before his eyes. Porthos alone gave a 
stroke with his oar ; and as this stroke had no counterpoise, 
the boat only turned half round, and this motion brought 
Athos nearer the dying man. 

“ Monsieur le Comte de la Père ! ” exclaimed Mordaunt — 

Monsieur le Comte de la Père ! I address you ! I suppli- 
cate you ! Have pity on me ! AVhere are you. Monsieur 
Comte de la Père? I can no longer see — I am dying — 
help! help!” ■ 

Here I am, sir,” said Athos, leaning down and stretching 


FATALITY. 


661 


out his arm to Mordaunt with that dignified generosity 
habitual to him. Here I am. Take my hand and get into 
our boat.’’ 

1 prefer not to look,” said D’Artagnan ; this weakness 
is repugnant to me.” 

And he turned to his two friends, who crowded down in the 
bottom of the boat, as if they feared even to touch him to 
whom Athos did not fear to reach his hand. 

Mordaunt made one final effort, raised himself, seized the 
hand that Avas held out to him, and clutched it with the vio- 
lence of a last hope. 

Very well ! ” said Athos ; “ put your other hand here.” 

And he offered him his shoulder as a second support, so 
that his head almost touched Mordaunt’s, and these two 
deadly enemies seemed to embrace each other like two 
brothers. 

Mordaunt clutched Athos’s collar with his convulsed fingers. 

Good, sir,” said the Count ; now you are saved ; be calm.” 

“ Ah, my mother ! ” exclaimed Mordaunt, Avith a look of 
fire and an accent of indescribable hatred ; I can only offer 
you one victim ; but it shall at least be the one Avhom you 
yourself would have chosen ! ” 

And while D’Artagnan Avas uttering a cry, Porthos raising 
his oar, and Aramis seeking for an opportunity of striking 
Mordaunt, a fearful jerk Avas given to the boat, and Athos 
was drawn into the water ; Avhile Mordaunt, with a triumph- 
ant cry, clasped the neck of his victim, and, to paralyse his 
efforts, encircled his legs with his own — just as a serpent 
might have enfolded its prey. 

For a moment, without uttering a cry, without calling for 
help, Athos endeavoured to keep himself on the surface of 
the Avater ; but the weight draAving him down, he gradually 
disappeared, and nothing was to be seen but his long hair 
floating on the waters. Then everything disappeared, and a 
large bubbling whirlpool - itself soon lost — alone indicated 
the spot Avhere the tAvo had been engulfed. 

Mute Avith horror, motionless, choked by indignation and 
terror, the three friends remained with mouths open, eyes 
dilated, and arms extended. They were like statues, and yet 
their hearts could be heard beating. Porthos was the first to 
recover himself, and, tearing his hair : 

“ Oh Î ” he exclaimed, with a sob that must have been ex- 


662 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


criiciating, — oh, Athos, Athos, noble heart ! Woe ! woe ! 
that we should have allowed you thus to die ! ” 

“ Oh ! yes,” repeated D’Artagiian, woe to us ! ” 

‘WVoe ! ” murmured Aramis. 

At this very moment, in the midst of the vast circle illu- 
mined by the rays of the moon, and about four or five fath- 
oms from the boat, the same sort of whirlpool that had an- 
nounced that something had been swallowed up was renewed, 
and they saw appear, first some hair, then a pale face with 
wide-open but lifeless eyes, then a body, which, after rising 
even to its bust above the sea, slowly turned over on its back, 
at the caprice of the billows. 

A ])oignard, the golden hilt glittering in the moonlight, was 
buried up to the hilt in the corpse’s breast. 

‘‘ Mordaunt ! Mordaunt ! Mordaunt ! ” exclaimed the three 
friends ; ’t is Mordaunt ! ” ’ 

“ But Athos ? ” said D’Artagnan. 

Suddenly the boat tipped to one side under the influence of 
an unexpected weight, and Grimaud sent forth a shout of joy. 
All turned round, and Athos, pale as a corpse, with dull eyes 
and trembling hand, was perceived, leaning on the edge of the 
boat. Eight brawny arms quickly lifted hini up, and in an 
instant he found himself warmed, reanimated, and recovering, 
♦under the caresses and embraces of his friends, who were 
intoxicated with joy. 

“ But are you not wounded ? ” asked D’Artagnan. 

No,” replied Athos. And he ? ” 

Oh, he ! This time, thank God ! he is dead enough. 
Look ! ” 

And D’Artagnan, forcing Athos to look in the direction 
indicated, pointed out to him Mordaunt’s body floating on the 
waves ; though it was sometimes submerged, sometimes lifted 
up, it appeared as if it still pursued the four friends with a 
look of insult and mortal hatred. 

At last it sank. Athos had followed it with an eye still 
expressive of sorrow and pity. 

Bravo, Athos ! ” said Aramis, with an effusiveness very 
rare with him. 

‘‘ What a splendid blow ! ” exclaimed Porthos. 

I have a son,” said Athos, and I wished to live.” 

After all, see how Go,d has spoken ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

I did not kill him,” murmured Athos, ‘‘ but Fate ! ” 



A POIGNARD WAS BURIED UP TO THE HILT IN THE CORPSE’S BREAST 





MOUSQUETON'S NARROW ESCAPE. 


663 


CHAPTER LXXVIII. 

WHEREIN, AFTER HAVING NARROWLY ESCAPED BEING ROASTED, 
MOUSQUETON WAS VERY NEAR BEING EATEN. 

Deep silence long reigned in the boat after the terrible 
scene we have just recounted. The moon, which had shown 
itself for a short time, as if God had wished that no detail of 
this event should be concealed from the spectators’ eyes, dis- 
appeared behind the clouds; everything returned to that 
darkness, so frightful in all deserts, and more particularly on 
that liquid desert, the ocean. Nothing was now heard except 
the whistling of the west wind over the crests of the waves. 

Porthos was the first to break silence. 

I have seen many things,” said he, “ but nothing ever 
affected me so much as what I have just seen. And yet, agi- 
tated as I am, I declare that I feel excessively happy. I have 
a hundred pounds weight, at least, removed from my heart, 
and at length I breathe freely.” 

And Porthos breathed with a sound that did honour to the 
vigorous play of his lungs. 

Porthos,” said Aramis, I will not say so much as you, 
for I am still anxious — so much so that I cannot believe my 
own eyes, I doubt what I have seen. I keep looking around 
the boat, and I expect every moment to see that wretch 
reappear, holding in his hand the poignard he had in his 
heart.” 

I am quite easy about that,” replied Porthos. “ The blow 
was struck under the sixth rib, and buried even to the hilt. I 
do not reproach you for it, Athos : on the contrary, when one 
strikes one must strike that way. So now I live, I breathe, I 
am joyful.” 

Do not be in haste to sing victory, Porthos,” said D'Arta- 
gnan. Never have we been in greater danger than at present ; 
for man conquers man, but not one of the elements. Here we 
are at sea, at night, without a guide, in a cranky craft. 
Should one blast of wind upset our boat, we are all lost.” 

Mousqueton heaved a profound sigh. 

You are ungrateful, D’Artagnan,” said Athos ; yes, 
ungrateful, to doubt Providence at the very moment when 
God has just saved us in a manner so miraculous. Do you 


664 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


believe that His protecting hand has guided us through so 
many dangers only to abandon us at last? No. In short, we 
sailed with a westerly wind ; it is still blowing.” 

Athos studied their position by the polar star. 

‘‘There is Charles’s Wain; consequently, yonder is France. 
Let us drift with the wind, and if it does not change it will 
drift us toward the coast of Calais or Boulogne. Should the 
boat upset, we are sufficiently strong, and good swimmers 
enough, five of us at least, to right her, or to hold on by her 
should this effort be beyond our strength. We are now in the 
direct course of all the vessels bound from Dover to Calais or 
from Portsmouth to Boulogne ; and if the water preserved 
their tracks, their wake would have marked a furrow in the 
very spot where we now are. At daybreak, therefore, we are 
certain to meet with some fishing-boat that will pick us up.” 

“ But if we should not meet with one, and if the wind 
should turn to the north ? ” 

“ Then,” said Athos, “ it would be another thing : we should 
not touch land until we crossed the Atlantic.” 

“ That jneans we should die of hunger,” replied Aramis. 

“ It is more than probable,” said the Comte de la Fère. 

Mousqueton heaved a second sigh more lamentable than the 
first. 

“ Mouston, Mouston, what is the matter with you, that you 
are always groaning so ? ” asked Porthos. “ It is becoming 
tiresome.” 

“ I am cold, sir,” replied Mousqueton. 

“ That is impossible,” said Porthos. 

“ Impossible ? ” said the astonished Mousqueton. 

“ Certainly. You have a body covered with a bed of fat 
that renders it impenetrable to the air. There is something 
else ; speak candidly.” 

“ Well then, sir, this same bed of fat, on which you congrat- 
ulate me, terrifies me.” 

“ And why so, Mouston ? Speak boldly ; these gentlemen 
permit you.” 

“ Because, sir, I remember that in the library of the Chateau 
de Bracieux there are many books of travels, and among them 
those of Jean Mocquet, the famous traveller of Henry IV.’s 
time.” 

“ Well ? ” 

“ Well, sir,” continued Mousqueton, “ in those books, many 


MOUSQUETON'S NARROW ESCAPE. 


665 


maritime adventures and events, like that which now threatens 
us, are spoken of.” 

“ Proceed, Mouston,” said Porthos. This analogy is full 
I of interest.” 

“Well, sir, Jean Mocquet says that under similar circum- 
stances famished voyagers have the frightful habit of eating 
one another, and of beginning with ” — 

“ With the fattest ! ” cried D’Artagnan, unable to restrain 
his laughter, notwithstanding the gravity of their situation. 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Mousqueton, somewhat abashed by this 
hilarity ; “ and permit me to observe that I do not see what 
there can possibly be to laugh at in all this.” 

“ This brave Houston is devotion personified,” resumed 
Porthos. “ I would wager that you already saw yourself, in 
imagination, cut up and eaten by your master.” 

“ Yes, sir ; although the joy which you suppose I experience 
is not, I confess, without some mixture of sadness. Yet, sir, I 
should not so much regret the sacrifice, if I was certain that 
i by dying I should still be useful to you.” 

I “ Houston,” said Porthos, much affected, “ if we ever should 
see the Chateau de Pierrefonds again, you shall have as your 
own property, for yourself and your descendants, the vineyard 
that is just above the farm.” 

“ And you shall name it the ‘ Devotion Vineyard,’ Houston,” 
said Aramis, “ to hand down to succeeding ages the memorial 
of your sacrifice.” 

“ Chevalier,” said D’Artagnan, laughing in turn, “you would 
have eaten Houston without much repugnance, would you not, 
especially after two or three days’ fasting ? ” 

“ Oh, faith, no,” replied Aramis ; “ I should have preferred 
Blaisois ; we have not known him so long.” 

During the exchange of these pleasantries, the chief object 
of which was to divert Athos’s thoughts from the scene that 
had just passed, the valets, as may be supposed, with the 
exception of Grimaud, who considered himself free from any 
danger on this score, were not very comfortable. 

So Grimaud, without taking any part in the conversation, 
and mute, as usual, kept rowing as hard as he could, with an 
oar in each hand. 

“ You are rowing, are you, Grimaud ? ” remarked Athos. 

Grimaud nodded. 

“ Why are you rowing ?” 


666 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


To keep warm.’’ 

In fact, while the other shipwrecked men were shivering 
with cold the silent Grimand was in a dripping perspiration. 

Suddenly Mousqueton uttered a shout of joy, and held a 
bottle above his head. 

‘‘ Oh ! ” said he, presenting the bottle to Porthos, — oh, sir, 
we are saved ! The boat is victualled.” 

And feeling eagerly under the bench wherefrom he had 
drawn the precious sample, he brought forth successively a ^ 
dozen bottles of the same kind, some bread, and a piece of salt 
beef. 

It is needless to say that this discovery restored gayety to all, 
except Athos. 

“ Mordieu ! ” said Porthos, who, it may be remembered, was 
hungry even when he first set foot on the felucca, ^‘it is aston- . 
ishing how hungry emotions make one.” ' 

And he emptied a bottle at a draught, and ate, for his own 
share, a good third of the bread and beef. ■ 

^^Now,” said Athos, “sleep, or endeavour to sleep, gentle- • 
‘men. I will keep watch.” v 

To any other men but our hardy adventurers, such a propo- - 
sition would have seemed derisive. In fact, they were wet to . 
thè bone, there was a freezing wind, and the feelings they had y 
lately experienced might have sufficed 'to drive sleep from I 
their eyelids. But as for these choice spirits, wdth their 'i 
iron constitutions and their frames inured to every kind of i 
fatigue, sleep invariably under all circumstances obeyed their 
call. 

So in a few minutes each one of them, full of confidence in 
their pilot, had laid himself down according to his fancy, and 
was trying to profit by Athos’s advice ; and he, seated at the j 
rudder, with his eyes fixed on the heavens, where, no doubt, 
he sought not only the route to France, but the face of God,. I 
remained alone, as he had promised, pensive and watchful, i 
and directing the little craft in the right course. | 

After some hours’ sleep, .the sleepers were awakened by ] 
Athos. ! 

The first light of the* day had just begun to whiten the i 
purple sea, and at the distance of about ten gunshots ahead 
a dark mass was visible, above which a triangular sail was 
spread, narrow and long, like a swallow’s wing. 

“ A vessel ! ” exclaimed the three friends with one voice ) 


MOÜSQÜErON'S NARROW ESCAPE. 


667 


while the lacqueys, on their part, expressed their joy in differ- 
ent tones. 

It was, in fact, a Dunkirk flûte, bound for Boulogne. 

The four masters, with Blaisois and Mousqueton, united 
their voices in one shout that rang over the elastic surface of 
the waves ; while Grimaud, without saying anything, put his 
hat on the top of an oar, to attract the attention of those whom 
they were hailing. 

In a quarter of an hour they were taken in tow by the 
boat of this vessel, and soon after they found themselves 
on her deck. Grimaud, in his master’s name, offered the 
captain twenty guineas ; and, the wind being favourable, our 
Frenchmen at nine in the morning were landed on their natal 
soil. 

‘‘ Morbleu ! how strong one feels here ! ” said Porthos, bury- 
ing his big feet in the sand. Let any one pick a quarrel with 
me now, — frown at me or tickle me, — and he shall see whom 
he has to deal with ! Morbleu ! I would set a whole kingdom 
at defiance ! ’’ 

And I,” said D’Artagnan, would advise you not to sound 
forth your defiance too loudly, Porthos ; for it appears to me 
that they are staring at us here.” 

Pardieu ! ” said Porthos, they are admiring us.” 

Well,” replied D’Artagnan, 1 caunot take any pride in it, 
Porthos. All I see is some men in black robes ; and, in our 
situation, I confess that these men in black alarm me.” 

They are customs clerks of the port,” said Aramis. 

Under the other Cardinal — I mean the great one,” said 
Athos, “ they would have paid more attention to us than to 
merchandise ; but under this man they will pay more attention 
to merchandise than to us — so do not disturb yourselves, my 
friends.” 

I am not so sure of that,” said D’Artagnan, and I am 
going to take to the downs.” 

But why not the town ? ” said Porthos. I should much 
prefer a good inn to these frightful deserts of sand, which God 
created merely for rabbits. Besides, I am hungry.” 

Do as youlike, Porthos,” said D’Artagnan ; “ but I am con- 
vinced that the safest plan, for men in our situation, is to strike 
for the open country.” 

And D'Artagnan, certain of carrying the majority with him, 
made for the downs, without waiting for Porthos’s answer. 


668 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


The little troop followed him, and they soon disappeared 
behind the sand-hills without having attracted public attention. 

“ Now,’’ said Aramis, when they had gone about a quarter 
of a league, let us talk.” 

“ No,” said D’Artagnan, let us fly. We have escaped from 
Cromwell, from Mordaunt, and from the sea, three gulfs that 
wished to swallow us up; we shall not escape from Sieur 
Mazarin.” 

You are right, D’Artagnan,” said Aramis ; and my advice 
is that, for greater security, we should separate.” 

Yes, yes, Aramis,” replied D’Artagnan, “ let us separate.” 

Porthos wished to combat this resolution ; but D’Artagnan 
made him understand, by pressing his hand, that he ought to 
hold his tongue. Porthos was very obedient to those intima- 
tions of his companion, whose intellectual superiority he 
acknowledged with his usual good-nature. So he swallowed 
the words that were ready to issue from his mouth. 

“ But why should we separate ? ” asked Athos. 

“ Because,” replied D’Artagnan, “ we — that is, Porthos and 
myself — were sent to. Cromwell by M. de Mazarin; and in- 
stead of serving Cromwell, we served Charles I. ; that is not 
the same thing ! By returning with the Comte de la Père and 
the Chevalier d’Herblay, our crime is avowed ; by returning 
alone, our crime remains doubtful ; and in doubt men go a 
long way. Now, I wish to lead M. de Mazarin over a good bit 
of space ! ” 

That is right,” said Porthos. 

You forget,” said Athos, “ that we are your prisoners — that 
we do not consid-er ourselves at all absolved from our parole to 
you — and that by taking us as prisoners to Paris ” — 

“ Now really, Athos,” broke in D’Artagnan, I am sorry that 
a man of talent, like yourself, should be always uttering such 
puerilities as would make the scholars of the third class blush. 
Chevalier,” continued D’Artagnan, addressing Aramis, who, 
leaning proudly on his sword, appeared at the first word to 
have come to his friend’s views, although he had at first given 
a contrary opinion, — Chevalier, understand that in this case, 
as in all others, my suspicious character somewhat exaggerates. 
Porthos and I run no danger, or next to none. But if, by 
chance, they were to attempt to arrest us in your presence — 
well, they could not arrest seven men as they arrest three ; 
the swords would see daylight, and the affair, bad enough for 


MOUSQUETON'S NARROW ESCAPE. 669 

all, would become a tragedy that would destroy all four of us. 
Besides, should any misfortune happen to two of our number, 
would it not be better that the other two should be at liberty 
.to extricate them — to creep about, to mine and sap — in fine, 
to deliver them ? And then, who knows whether we may not 
obtain separately — you from the Queen, we from Mazarin — 
the pardon that would be refused to us united ? Come, Athos 
and Aramis, do you take to the right ; while you, Porthos, will 
come to the left with me. Let these gentlemen strike through 
Normandy, and let us get to Paris by the shortest route.^’ 

But should we be arrested on the road, how shall we 
mutually inform one another of this catastrophe ? ” demanded 
Aramis. 

Nothing easier,’’ replied D’Artagnan ; “ let us agree on a 
route from which we must not deviate. Go you to Saint 
Valery, then to Dieppe, and then follow the direct road to 
Paris. We will proceed by Abbeville, Amiens, Peronne, Com- 
piegne, and Senlis ; and in every tavern, in every house where 
we stop, we will write on the wall with the point of a knife, 
or on the window with a diamond, a token that may guide the 
researches of those who are free.” 

Ah, my friend,” said Athos, how I should admire the 
resources of your head, if I were not compelled to pay homage 
to those of your heart,” 

And he gave D’Artagnan his hand. 

And has the fox cleverness, Athos ? ” said the Gascon, 
with a shrug of his shoulders. No; it knows how to gobble 
up poultry, to balk the hunters, and to find its way by night 
as well as by day — that is all. Well, is it settled ? ” 

Yes, it is.” 

Then let us divide the money,” said D’Artagnan ; there 
ought to be about two hundred pistoles remaining. How much 
is there left, Grimaud ? ” 

One hundred and eighty half-louis, sir.” 

That is it. Ah, vivat ! there is the sun. Good morning, 
friend sun ! Although you are not the same here as in Gascony, 
I know you again, or rather I pretend to do so. Good morn- 
ing to you ! It is a long time since I have seen you.” 

Come, come, D’Artagnan,” said Athos, do not assume 
too much mockery ; the tears are in your eyes. Let us always 
be open and candid with one another ; that frankness ought 
always to bring out our good qualities.” 


670 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Well, then,’’ replied D’Artagnan, ‘‘ do you think, Athos, 
that one can coldly part with two such friends as you and 
Arainis, and at a time when there may be some danger ? ” 

“ No,” said Athos ; so come to my arms, my son ! ” 

‘‘ Mordieu ! ” said Porthos, sobbing, I verily believe that I 
am crying. How' silly it is ! ” 

And the four friends made one group as they embraced one 
another. These men, united by the bonds of fraternity, had 
certainly now but one soul. 

Blaisois and Grimaud were to follow Athos and Aramis. 
Mouscpieton sufficed for D’Artagnan and Porthos. 

The money was, as usual, divided with fraternal exactness. 
Then, after having shaken one another’s hands and given reiter- 
ated assurances of eternal friendship, the gentlemen separated, 
each party to take the road agreed upon, but not without turn^ 
ing round, not without again sending back some words of 
affection which were repeated by the echoes of the downs. 

At length they were lost to each other’s sight. 

Sacrebleu ! D’Artagnan,” said Porthos, I must needs 
tell you immediately — for I can never lock up in my heart 
anything against you — I have not recognised you in this 
affair.” 

And why so ? ” demanded D’Artagnan, with his sly smile. 

“ Because, if, as you say, Athos and Aramis are incurring a 
real danger, this is not the moment to abandon them. For 
my part, I confess that I was much inclined to follow them ; 
and have half a mind, even now, to rejoin them, in spite of all 
the Mazarins in the world.” 

“ You would be right, Porthos, if it were indeed so,” replied 
D’Artagnan ; but learn one little trifling circumstance, which, 
small as it is, will probably change the course of your ideas. 
Those gentlemen are not the ones who run the greatest danger, 
but ourselves ; and we do not leave them to abandon them, 
but so as not to compromise them.” 

“ Keally ! ” said Porthos, opening his eyes wide with as- 
tonishment. 

“ Yes, there is no doubt of it. If they should be arrested, 
they would simply be taken to the Bastille; while if that 
should happen to us, we should be executed on the Place de 
Grève.” 

‘G)ho! ” said Porthos, it is a long way from that to the 
baron’s coronet you promised me, D’Artagnan.” 


THE RETURN. 


671 


Bah ! not so far as you imagine perhaps, Porthos. You 
know the proverb — ‘Every road leads to Borne.’” 

“ But why do we incur greater danger than Athos and 
Aramis ? ” asked Porthos. 

“ Because they did no more than follow the orders they re- 
ceived from Queen Henrietta, while we have disobeyed those 
we received from Mazarin ; because, having set out as mes- 
sengers to Cromwell, we became partisans of King Charles ; 
becausè, instead of helping to cut off the royal head condemned 
by those scoundrels, Mazarin, Cromwell, Joyce, Pride, Fair- 
fax, and the rest, we were very near rescuing him.” 

“ Faith, that is true,” said Porthos. “ But can you imagine, 
my dear friend, that, in the midst of his lofty occupations. 
General Cromwell would have time to think ” — 

“ Cromwell thinks of everything — Cromwell has time for 
everything ; and believe me, my dear friend, we must not lose 
ours, for it is precious. We shall not be safe till we have 
seen Mazarin ; and more than that ” — 

“ Diable ! ” exclaimed Porthos ; “ and what shall we say to 
Mazarin ? ” 

“ Let me alone for that ; I have got my plan ; he will laugh 
best who laughs last. Cromwell is very powerful, Mazarin is 
very crafty, but yet I prefer trying diplomacy against them, 
rather than against the late Mordaunt.” 

“ There now ! How agreeable it is to say — the late Mor- 
daunt ! ” said Porthos. 

“ Faith, and so it is ! ” replied D’Artagnan. “ But forward ! ” 

And both of them, without losing a moment, went across 
the country at a venture in the direction of Paris, followed by 
Mousqueton, who, after having been too cold all night, was, in 
a quarter of an hour, a great deal too hot. 


CHAPTEB LXXIX. 

THE RETURX. 

Athos and Aramis followed the route assigned to them by 
D’Artagnan; and had travelled as rapidly as possible. They 
thought that it would be more advantageous to them to be 
arrested near Paris than at a distance from it. 


672 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Every evening, in their fear of being arrested during the 
night, they traced, either on the wall or on the windows, the 
signal agreed upon ; but to their great surprise, every morning 
on awaking they found themselves at liberty. 

As they drew near Paris, the great events in which they had 
taken part, and which had been convulsing England, vanished 
like dreams ; while on the other hand, those that had agitated 
Paris and the country during their absence were brought be- 
fore their notice. 

During their six weeks’ absence, so many little events had 
taken place in Prance that they almost constituted a great 
event. The Parisians, on waking in the morning without their 
King and Queen, were much disturbed by this abandonment ; 
and Mazarin’s absence, so anxiously desired, did not compen- 
sate for that of the august fugitives. 

The first feeling therefore that stirred Paris, when the flight 
to St. Germain became known, — the flight' in which we caused 
our readers to be present, — was that kind of terror that seizes 
children when they awake in the night or in solitude. The 
Parliament was excited, and it was decided that a deputation 
should be sent to the Queen, to entreat her no longer to de- 
prive Paris of her presence. 

But the Queen was as yet under the influence of the double 
feeling caused by the triumph at Lens and the pride of a flight 
so happily accomplished. The deputies were not denied the 
honour of a reception, but they were even compelled to wait on 
the high road, where the Chancellor Seguier (that same Chan- 
cellor whom we saw, in the first part of this history, so inflexi- 
bly pursuing a letter, even into the Queen’s stays) came to 
deliver the ultimatum of the Court, declaring that unless the 
Parliament humbled itself before the royal majesty by condemn- 
ing all those measures that had brought about the quarrel, 
Paris should be besieged on the following day ; that in antici- 
pation of this siege, the Due d’ Orleans was already occupying 
the bridge of Saint Cloud ; and that M. le Prince, still glow- 
ing with his victory at Lens, held Charenton and Saint Denis. 

Unfortunately for the Court, to which a moderate answer 
would probably have added a goodly number of partisans, this 
threatening response produced a contrary effect to that which 
had been expected. It wounded the pride of the Parliament, 
which, finding itself vigorously supported by the citizens, to 
whom Broussel’s pardon had revealed the measure of their 


THE RETURN. 


673 


strength, replied to these letters-patent by declaring that since 
Cardinal Mazarin was notoriously the author of all these com- 
motions he was pronounced the enemy of the King and the 
State, and was commanded to leave the Court that same day 
and France itself within a week ; and after that period, should 
he not obey, it enjoined all the King’s subjects to attack 
him. 

This energetic answer, which the Court was far from antici- 
pating, outlawed both Mazarin and Paris at the same time. 
It now only remained to be proved which would gain the day 

— the Parliament or the Court. 

The Court made its preparations for attack, and Paris its 
preparations to defend itself. The citizens therefore were en- 
gaged in the work customary to them in times of insurrection, 

— that is to say, in unpaving the streets and stretching chains 
across them, — when they saw the Prince de Conti, the brother 
of the Prince de Condé, and his brother-in-law, the Due de 
Longueville, coming to their assistance, brought by the coad- 
jutor. From that time they recovered their confidence ; for 
they had noAv two princes of the blood on their side, and, 
moreover, the advantage in numbers. It was on the 10th of 
January that this unhoped-for reinforcement came to the Pa- 
risians. 

After a stormy debate the Prince de Conti was named the 
Generalissimo of all the King’s armies out of Paris, and the 
Due d’Elbeuf and the Due de Bouillon, with the Maréchal de 
la Mothe, his lieutenant-generals. The Due de Longueville, 
without title or command, was contented to assist his brother- 
in-law. 

M. de Beaufort was come up from the Vendomois, bringing, 
so say the chronicles, his lofty air, his beautiful long locks, 
and that popularity which ensured him the dominion of the 
market-places. 

The Parisian army was therefore organized with that 
promptitude which the citizens exhibit in disguising themselves 
as soldiers, when they are urged forward to such a transforma- 
tion by any feeling whatever. On the 19th the impromptu 
army had attempted a sortie, rather to convince itself and 
others of its actual existence than to attempt anything serious ; 
dying above their heads a flag on which was this singular de- 
vice : Nous cherchons notre roi — We seek our King. 

The following days were occupied in some trifling operations 


674 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


that had no other result than the carrying off of some flocks of ' 
slieep and the burning of two or three houses. 

This brought them to the first days of February ; and the 
first of that month our four friends had disembarked at Bou- 
logne and taken the road to Paris, each party by a different 
route. 

About the close of the fourth day’s march Athos’s party 
cautiously avoided Nanterre, so that they might not fall into ' 
the hands of any of the Queen’s party. 

All these precautions were taken greatly against Athos’s • 
inclination ; but Aramis had very judiciously reminded him 
that they had no right to be imprudent, since they had been 
charged with a most serious, indeed a sacred, mission by 
King Charles, and that this mission, received at the foot of the 
scaffold, could be accomplished only at the feet of the Queen. 

Athos then yielded. 

At the faubourgs our travellers found a strict guard. All • 
Paris was in arms. The sentinel refused to let the two gen- 
tlemen pass, and called the sergeant. 

The sergeant immediately came out, and assuming all the 
importance that the citizens are accustomed to take upon I 
themselves when they have the honour of being clothed with ! 
military dignity : 1 

Who are you, gentlemen ? ” he asked. 

‘‘ Two gentlemen,” replied Athos. 

“ Whence do you come ? ” 

From London.” 

‘‘ What are you come to Paris for ? ” 

‘‘To execute a commission to the Queen of England.” 

“ Ah, ça ! Every one goes now to the Queen of England,” 
replied the sergeant. “ We have already at the guard-house 
three gentlemen whose passports are being examined, and (| 
who are going to the Queen of England. Where are yours ? ” ■ I 

“ We have none.” 

“ What ! You have no passports ?” ! 

“No! We are just arrived from England, as we have told . 
you; and we are completely ignorant of the state of i)ublic 
affairs, having left Paris before the King's departure.'’ 

“Ah!” said the sergeant, with a sharp look, “you are £ 
Mazarinists, and want to come in here as spies.” ' t 

“ My dear friend,” said Athos, who had till now allowed f 
Aramis to reply, “ if we were Mazarinists we should, on the f 


THE RETURN. 


675 


cjnu'ary, have all the passports we might require. Believe 
lue, in your situation yon should suspect, above all, those who 
liave everything filled up according to rule.’’ 

“ Go into the guard-house,” said the sergeant ; yon shall 
explain everything to the commanding officer.” 

He made a sign to the sentinel, who drew to one side ; the 
sergeant went first, and the two gentlemen followed him into 
the guard-house. 

This guard-house was entirely occupied by citizens and com- 
mon people, some of Avlioin were drinking, some dicing, and 
some making sj^eeches. 

In a corner, and out of sight, were the three first-comers 
whose passports the officer was examining. This officer was 
, in an adjoining room, the importance of his rank entitling 
jdiiiii to a private apartment. 

The first act of the new-comers and of those who had pre- 
viously entered was to cast a rapid and searching glance at 
each other, from the opposite extremities of the guard-room. 

^ The first were enveloped in long cloaks, in the folds of which 
I they were carefully concealed. One of them, shorter than his 
i companions, kept in the shade behind. 

! At the declaration made by the sergeant as he entered, that in 
all probability he was bringing in two Mazarinists, the three 
men pricked up their ears and became attentive. The short- 
est of the three, who had taken two steps forward, drew back 
again into the shade. 

When it was known that the two gentlemen had no pass- 
ports, it seemed to be the unanimous opinion of the guard- 
room that they would not be allowed to enter. 

Yes, gentlemen,” said Athos, it is, on the contrary, prob- 
able that we shall enter, for Ave seem to be engaged Avith men 
of sense. Tliere is one very simple method of acting ; send 
our names to her Majesty the Queen of England, and if she 
ansAvers for us, T hope that you Avill feel no hesitation in 
alloAving us to pass.” 

At these Avords the attention of the man concealed in the 
shade redoubled, and Avas even accompanied by such a move- 
ment of surprise that his hat, being raised by the cloak that he 
Avas more carefully adjusting, fell to the ground. He stooped 
and picked it up hastily. 

“ Oil, moil Hieu ! ” said Aramis, nudging Athos Avith his 
çlbow, did you see ? ” 


676 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ What ? asked Athos. 

‘‘ The face of the shortest of those three gentlemen ? 

“No.” 

It seemed to me — But it is impossible ” — | 

At this moment the sergeant, who had gone into the pr. 'ate I 
room to get the orders from the officer on guard, came out and < 
handed a paper to the three gentlemen. j 

“ Your passports are correct,” said he. “ Let these three | 
men pass.” j 

The three gentlemen bowed, and hastened to take ad van- j 
tage of the permission, and of the exit given them by the j 
sergeant’s order. « 

Aramis followed them with his eyes, and at the moment 
that the shortest passed him he pressed Athos’s hand. ( 

“ What is the matter with you, then, my dear ? ” asked 
Athos. 

“ The matter — it is doubtless a vision.” 

Then, addressing the sergeant : ; 

“ Tell me, sir,” he added, “ do you know the three gentlemen 
who have just left the room ? ” 

“I know them by their passports: they are Messieurs de 
Chatillon, De Flamarens, and De Bruy, three gentlemen Fron- 
deurs who are going to join the Due de Longueville.” 

“ It is very strange,” said Aramis, replying to his own 
thoughts rather than to the sergeant ; “ I thought that I 
detected Mazarin himself.” 

The sergeant burst out laughing. “ What ! ” said he ; i 
“Mazarin hazard himself in that manner among us, to be 
hanged! Not such a fool as that!” 

“ Ah ! ” murmured Aramis, “ I may be mistaken ; I have not 
D’Artagnan’s infallible eye.” 

“ Who is talking of D’Artagnan here ? ” asked the officer, 
who at this moment appeared on the threshold. 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed Grimaud, with staring eyes. 

“ What ? ” cried Athos and Aramis at the same time. i 

“ Planchet ! ” replied Grimaud ; “ Flanchet, with the gor- 
get ! ” 

“M. de la Fère and M. d’Herblay,” exclaimed the officer, ' 
“ returned to Paris ! Oh, what delight to me, gentlemen ! — 
for without doubt you are come to join the princes ? ” 

“ As you see, my dear Planchet,” said Aramis ; while Athos 
smiled, on seeing the important rank that the old comrade 

i 


THE RETURN. 


677 


of Mousqueton, Bazin, and Griinaud occupied in the city 
militia. ^ 

^ d’Artagnan, of whom you were speaking just now, 
M. d’Herblay, may I venture to inquire whether you know 
anything about him ? ” 

•‘We left him four days ago, my dear friend, and every- 
thing induces us to imagine that he has reached Paris before 
us.^’ 

“ No, sir ; I am certain he has not entered the capital. Per- 
haps he stopped at Saint Germain.’’ 

“ T do not think so. We agreed to meet at La Chevrette.’^ 

“ I went there this very day.” 

“ And had not the fair Madeline received any word from 
him ? ” asked Araniis, smiling. 

“ No, sir j and I will not conceal from you that she appeared 
very uneasy.” 

“ After all,” said Aramis, “ no time has been lost as yet, and 
we have been very expeditious. Allow me, then, my dear 
Athos, before asking any more questions about our friend, to 
congratulate M. Planchet.” 

“ Ah, Monsieur le Chevalier ! ” said Planchet, bowing. 

“ Lieutenant ? ” said Aramis. 

“ Lieutenant, with the promise of being captain.” 

“ It is very fine,” said Araniis ; “ and how came all these 
honours to be showered upon you ? ” 

“ In the first place, gentlemen, you are aware that I am the 
person who saved M. de Rochefort?” 

Yes, pardieu ; he himself told us that.” 

“ I very narrowly escaped being hanged on that occasion by 
Mazarin, which naturally made me even more popular than I 
•was before.” 

“ And thanks to this popularity ” — 

“No, thanks to something better. You also know, gentle- 
men, that I served in the regiment of Piedmont, where I had 
the honour of being a sergeant.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well, then, one day when no one could line up a crowd 
of armed citizens, who set off, some with the left and others 
with the right foot, I managed to make them all march with 
the same foot, and for this I was made lieutenant on the 
parade — the parade ground.” 

“ And that is the explanation ? ” said Aramis. 


678 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


I believe/’ said Athos, “ that you have crowds of the 
nobility with you ? ” 

Certainly. We have, in the first place, as you doubtless 
know, the Prince de Conti and the Due de Longueville, the i 
Due de Beaufort, the Due d’Elbeuf, the Due de Bouillon, the 
Due de Chevreuse, M. de Brissac, the Maréchal de la Mothe, 
M. de Luynes, the Marquis de Vitry, the Prince de Marcillac, 
the Marquis de Noirmoutiers, the Comte de Fiesque, the Mar- I 
quis de Laigues, the Comte de Montrésor, the Marquis de 
Sé vigne, and God knows who besides.” - ' 

“ And M. Eaoul de Bragelonne ? ” asked Athos, in an agi- | 
tated voice ; “ D’Artagnan told me that he recommended him 
to your notice on leaving Paris, my good Planchet.” 

Yes, Count, as if he had been his own son ; and I may say 
that I have not lost sight of him one single moment.” : 

“ Then,” replied Athos, in a voice tremulous with joy, he 
is well, and no accident has happened to him ? ” 

None, sir.” 

‘‘ And he lives ” — 

Still at the Grand Charlemagne.” ! 

And he passes his time ” — I 

Sometimes at the Queen of England’s, and sometimes at | 
the house of Madame de Chevreuse. He and the Comte de 
Guiche are inseparable.” | 

Thank you, Planchet, thank you,” said Athos, holding out | 
his hand to him. I 

Oh ! M. le Comte ! ” said Planchet, touching his hand with 
the tips of his fingers. i 

‘‘Well, now, what are you doing. Count? To a former lac- j 
quey ! ” exclaimed Aram is. | 

“ My friend,” said Athos, “ he gives me news of Raoul.” 

“ And now, gentlemen,” asked Planchet, who had not heard i 
Aramis’s observation, “ what do you wish to do ? ” I 

“ To enter Paris, if you will grant us permission, my dear j 
Monsieur Planchet,” said Athos. 

“ What ! If I will give you permission ? You are laughing at | 
me, Monsieur le Comte ! I am nothing more tlian your servant.” i 
And he bowed. 

Then, turning to his men : “ Let these gentlemen pass,” said 
he. “I know them; they are friends of M. de Beaufort.” 

“ Vive M. de Beaufort ! ” cried the whole guard with one 
voice, and opened a passage for Athos and Aramis. 


THE AMBASSADORS. 


679 


The sergeant alone went up to Planchet. 

What, without a passport ? ” he muttered. 

Yes, without a passport,’’ answered Planchet. 

Observe, captain,” he continued, giving Planchet his proi'n- 
ised title by anticipation, — “ observe that one of those three 
men who went out just now told me, in a low voice, to distrust 
these gentlemen.” 

And I,” said Planchet, with considerable dignity, — “I 
know them and will be responsible for them.” 

Having said this he squeezed Griniaud’s hand, who appeared 
to think himself greatly honoured by this distinction. 

“ An revoir, then, captain,” said Aramis, in his banter- 
ing tone. ‘‘ Should anything happen to us, we will refer to 
you.” 

“ Sir,” said Planchet, in that, as in everything else, I am 
ever your valet.” 

‘‘ The rascal has wit, and plenty of it too,” said Aramis, 
mounting his horse. 

And how could it be otherwise,” said Athos, also getting 
into the saddle, “ after having so long brushed his master’s 
hats ? ” 


CHAPTER LXXX. 

THE AMBASSADORS. 

The two friends immediately went on their way, descending 
the steep declivity of the faubourg ; but when they had 
reached the bottom of the hill, they saw, with the utmost as- 
tonishment, that the streets of Paris where changed into 
rivers and the squares into lakes. In consequence of the 
great rains that had prevailed in the month of J anuary, the 
Seine had overflowed, and the river had taken possession of 
half the capital. 

Athos and Aramis boldly entered the water with their 
horses ; but very soon the poor animals were up to the chest, 
and the two gentlemen were obliged to leave them and take a 
boat. This they did, after ordering their lacqueys to go and 
wait for them in the market-places. 

So they entered the Louvre in a boat. The night had 
closed in, and the pale and quivering light of lanterns reflected 


680 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


on these pools, the boats loaded with patrols with their glitter- 
ing arms, and the watchwords of the sentinels as they were 
exchanged at the different gates gave to Paris an aspect that 
duite dazzled Aramis, a man as susceptible of warlike impres- 
sions as could possibly be found. 

They reached the Queen’s abode, but were obliged to wait in 
the ante-chamber, her Majesty being just then engaged in giv- 
ing an audience to some gentlemen who had brought news 
from England. 

‘‘ And we also,” said Athos to the servant who made them 
this reply, — we also not only bring news from England, 
but we are just arrived from that country.” 

‘‘ What are your names, gentlemen ? ” inquired the servant. 

M. le Comte de la Fère and M. le Chevalier d’Herblay,” 
replied Aramis. 

Ah ! in that case, gentlemen,” said the servant, on hearing 
these names, which the Queen had so often mentioned with 
hope, — “ in that case it is quite another thing, and I believe 
her Majesty would not pardon me were I to make you wait a 
single instant. Follow me, then, I pray you.” 

And he went forward, followed by Athos and Aramis. 

Having reached the room occupied by the Queen, he made 
them a sign to stop, and opening the door : 

‘‘ Madame,” said he, I hope that your Majesty will pardon 
this disobedience of your orders, when she knows that those I 
come to announce are the Comte de la Fère and the Chevalier 
d’Herblay.” 

At these two names the Queen uttered a cry of joy, which 
was heard by the gentlemen from the spot where they stood. 

“ Poor Queen ! ” murmured Athos. 

Oh, let them come in ! Let them come in ! ” exclaimed the 
young Princess, rushing to the door. 

The poor child was her mother’s constant companion, and 
tried to make her forget the absence of her two brothers and 
her sister. 

“ Come in, come in, gentlemen,” said she, opening the door 
herself. 

Athos and Aramis entered. The Queen was seated in an 
armchair, and before her were standing two of the gentlemen 
they had met in the guard-room. They were M. de Flamarens 
and Gaspard de Coligny, Duc de Châtillon, brother of him 
who was killed in a duel seven or eight years before in the 


THE AMBASSADORS. 


681 


Place Koyale — a duel that took place on account of Madame 
de Longueville. 

When the two friends were announced, they drew back and 
exchanged some words in a low voice, evidently ill at ease. 

“ Well, gentlemen ! ” exclaimed the Queen of England, on 
seeing Athos and Aramis, here you are at last, my faithful 
friends ; but the couriers of the Government travel even more 
rapidly than you do. The Court received intelligence of the 
state of affairs in London at the very moment that you reached 
the gates of Paris ; and here are M. de Flamarens and M. de 
Chatillon, who bring me the latest information from her 
Majesty the Queen, Anne of Austria.’’ 

Aramis and Athos looked at each other ; that tranquillity, 
that joy even, that sparkled in the Queen’s eyes, overwhelmed 
them with stupefaction. 

Will you continue ? ” said she, addressing De Flamarens 
j: and the Due de Chatillon. You were saying that his Majesty 
!; Charles I., my august master, had been condemned to death, 
i in defiance of the wishes of the majority of his subjects.” 

Yes, madame,” stammered out Chatillon. 

Athos and Aramis looked at each other in still greater as- 
i tonishment. 

And that, having been led to the scaffold,” continued the 
t Queen — to the scaffold ! — oh, my Lord ! oh, my King ! — 
and that, having been led to the scaffold, he had been saved 
■ by the indignant people.” 

“ Yes, madame,” replied Chatillon, in a voice so low that 
! the two friends, although very attentive, could with great 
difficulty hear this affirmation. 

The Queen clasped her hands with a generous gratitude, 

I whilst the daughter passed her arm round her mother’s neck 
! and kissed her, with tears of joy flowing from her eyes. 

“ Kow, madame, nothing remains for us, except to present 
* to 3"our Majesty our humble respects,” said Chatillon, on whom 
: this part appeared to weigh heavily, and who evidently blushed 
I under Athos’s fixed and piercing eye. 

One moment longer,” said the Queen, retaining them by a 
I sign, — ^‘one moment, I beseech you; for here are M. de la 
Fère and the Chevalier d’Herblay, who, as you may have 
heard, are just returned from London, and who, as eye-wit- 
nesses, will perhaps give you some particulars that you do not 
yet know, and which you can communicate to the Queen, my 


682 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


good sister. Speak, gentlemen, speak ; I am attentive. Do , 
not conceal anything from me ; do not soften anything. So 
long as his Majesty is still alive, and that the royal honour is 
safe, everything else is indifferent to me.” 

Athos turned pale and laid his hand on his heart. 

Well, now !” said the Queen, who saw his movement and ; 
Ids palor; speak then, sir, I entreat you.” 

Pardon me, madame,” replied Athos, “ but I do not wish | 
to add anything to the account which these gentlemen have i 
given, until they themselves acknowledge that they have per- 
haps been mistaken.” ! 

Mistaken ! ” exclaimed the Queen, almost suffocated. ! 
‘^Mistaken! Oh, my God! What has happened, then?” 

“ Sir,” said M. de Flamarens to Athos, ^Gf we are mistaken, j 
the error originates with the Queen ; and you have no inten- 
tion, I imagine, to correct it, since that would give the lie to 
her Majesty.” ; 

“ With the Queen, sir ? ” demanded Athos, in his calm and * 
sonorous voice. 

Yes,” replied Flamarens, lowering his eyes. 

Athos sighed mournfully. 

May not the error rather originate with him who accom- 
panied you, and whom we saw in the guard-room of the 
Barrière du Boule ? ” said Aramis, with his insulting polite- 
ness ; “ for if le Comte de la Fère and myself are not both mis- 
taken, there were three of you when you entered Paris.” 

Chatillon and Flamarens started. 

But explain yourself. Count,” said the Queen, whose ! 
anguish increased every moment. “ I read despair upon your ; 
brow ; your lips hesitate to announce some terrible news ; your 
hands tremble — oh, my God ! my God ! what has happened ? ” 

“ Oh, Lord ! ” cried the young Princess, falling on her knees | 
by her mother’s side, have pity on us.” 

Sir,” said Chatillon, if you are the bearer of melancholy 
intelligence, you act most cruelly in announcing it to the 
Queen.” 

Aramis went up so closely to Chatillon as nearly to touch 
him. Sir,” said he, with compressed lip and sparkling eye, 
‘^you have not, I imagine, the presumption to wish to teach 
M. de la Fère and myself what we are to sa}^ here?” 

During this short altercation Athos, with his hand still on 
his heart and his head bent, had gone up to the Queen. 


THE AMBASSADORS. 


683 


“ Madame/’ said he to her, in an agitated voice, princes, 
wlio by their nature are superior to other men, have received 
from heaven • souls capable of supporting greater misfortunes 
than the vulgar herd, for their hearts participate in their 
superiority. I ought not, therefore, I think, to act with a 
great Queen like your Majesty in the same manner as with a 
woman in my own rank of life. Queen, doomed to all martyr- 
dom in this world, here is the result of the mission with 
which you deigned to honour us.” 

And Athos, kneeling before the Queen, who was panting 
with agitation, drew from his bosom, enclosed in the same box, 
the diamond order which the Queen had delivered to Lord de 
Winter before their departure, and the wedding ring which, 
before his death, Charles had intrusted to Aramis, and which, 
since he had received them, had never been out of Athos’s 
possession. 

He opened the box, and ]3resented it to the Queen with a 
mute and profound grief. 

The Queen seized the ring, pressed it convulsively to her 
lips, and without being able to emit a sigh, without the power 
even of sending forth a sob, she stretched her arms, turned 
pale, and fell insensible into the arms of her attendants and 
her daughter. 

Athos kissed the hem of the robe of the unhappy widow ; 

, then rising, with a dignity that made a deep impression on 
j those who were present : I, Comte de la Fère,” said he, a 
gentleman who have never lied, — I swear, first in the presence 
I of God, and then in the presence of this poor Queen, that 
j everything that it was possible to do to save the King was 
f done by us on the soil of England. Now, Chevalier,” he 
added, turning towards D’Herblay, let us go. AVe have per- 
formed our duty.” 

Not yet,” said Aramis : there remains one word to say to 
these gentlemen.” 

And, turning to Châtillon : 

^^Sir,” said he, will you be so obliging as to leave the 
room, if it be only for a minute, to hear that word which I 
cannot speak before the Queen ? ” 

Châtillon bowed an assent without answering. 

Athos and Aramis went out first ; Cliatillon and Flamarens 
followed them. They went tbrough the vestibule in silence ; 
but on reaching a terrace on a level with a window, Aramis 


684 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


led the way along this ; it was quite solitary. At the window 
he stopped, and turning to the Due de Chatillon : 

Sir,” said he, '^^ you took the liberty just now, it appears to 
me, to treat us very ca,valierly. That was improper under 
any circumstances ; but much more so on the part of men who 
came to bring the Queen the message of a liar.” 

Sir ! ” exclaimed Châtillon. 

What, then, have you done with M. de Bruy ? ” asked 
Aramis ironically. ‘‘ Is he gone perchance to change his 
countenance, which too much resembles Mazarin’s ? It is well 
known that there are a great number of Italian masks in use 
at the Palais Koyal, from that of Harlequin to that of Panta- 
loon.” 

You mean to provoke us, I think,” said Flamarens. 

‘‘ Ah ! you only think so, gentlemen ? ” 

“ Chevalier ! Chevalier ! ” said Athos. 

Let me alone,” said Aramis sharply ; you know very 
well that I do not like these things to be procrastinated.” 

“ Finish then, sir,” said Chatillon, with a haughtiness not at 
all inferior to that shown by Aramis. 

Aramis bowed. Gentlemen,” said he, any other person 
than myself or the Comte de la Fère would cause you to be 
arrested, for we have some friends in Paris ; but we offer you 
a means of departure without anxiety. Come and talk with 
us for five minutes, sword in hand, on this solitary terrace.” 

“ Willingly,” replied Chatillon. 

One moment, gentlemen ! ” exclaimed Flamarens ; I am 
well aware that the proposition is tempting, but at present it 
is impossible for us to accept it.” 

“ Why so ? ” said Aramis, in his mocking tone ; “ is it the 
proximity of Mazarin that makes you so prudent?” 

“Oh! do you hear, Flamarens?” said Chatillon; “not to 
answer it would be a stain on my name and honour.” 

“ That is my opinion,” said Aramis. 

“ You will not answer it, however,” said Flamarens ; “ and 
these gentlemen will, I am sure, soon agree with me.” 

Aramis tossed his head with a gesture of indescribable 
insolence. Châtillon saw the gesture and placed his hand 
upon his sword. 

“Duke,” said Flamarens, “you forget that to-morrow you 
command an expedition of the very greatest importance, 
and that; selected by the Prince and favourably accepted by 


THE AMBASSADORS. 


685 


the Queen, you are not your own master until to-morrow 
evening.” 

So be it ! — day after to-morrow morning, then,” said 
Aramis. 

“ Till day after to-morrow,” said Chatillon, “ is a long time, 
gentlemen.” 

am not the person who fixes this time and asks for this 
delay,” retorted Aramis. “Besides, it appears to me,” he 
added, “that we might meet on this expedition.” 

“Yes, sir, you are right!” exclaimed Châtillon; “ and with 
the greatest pleasure, if you will take the trouble of coming as 
far as the gates of Charenton.” 

“ Faith ! sir, to have the honour of meeting you, I would go 
to the end of the world ; much more, then, will I go a league or 
two for the same purpose.” 

“Very well. To-morrow, sir.” 

“ You may depend upon me. So go and rejoin your Car- 
dinal. But first of all, swear by your honour that you will 
not inform him of our return.” 

“ What ! Conditions ? ” 

“ And why not ? ” 

“Because it belongs to conquerors alone to require them, 
and you are not yet in that condition, gentlemen.” 

“ Then let us draw immediately. It is quite the same thing 
to us, who have not the command of to-morrow’s expedition.” 

Chatillon and Flamarens looked at each other. There wag 
such a tone of irony in Aramis’s words and actions that Cha- 
tillon, more especially, had great difficulty in bridling his 
anger. But on a word from Flamarens, he restrained himself. 

“ Well, then, so let it be,” said he ; “ our companion, who- 
ever he may be, shalh know nothing of what has passed. But 
you, sir, on your part, promise me to be at Charenton to- 
morrow, do you not, sir ? ” 

“ Ah ! ” replied Aramis, “ make yourselves perfectly easy on 
that score, gentlemen.” 

The four gentlemen bowed ; but this time Chatillon and 
Flamarens left the Louvre first, and Athos and Aramis fol- 
lowed them. 

“ What is the meaning of this furious anger, Aramis ? ” 
asked Athos. 

“ Ah, pardieu ! I have good reason to be angry with those 
whom I have just quarrelled with.” 


686 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Why, what have they done bo you ? 

Why, they — But did you not see it ? ’’ 

They sneered when we swore that we had done our duty 
in England. Now, they either believed it or they did not 
believe it. If they did believe it, they sneered with the inten- 
tion of . insulting us ; if they did not believe us, they insulted 
us still more ; and it is absolutely necessary to let them know 
that we are good for something. After all, I am not sorry 
that they have deferred the thing till to-morrow. I believe 
we have something better to do this evening than to draw our 
swords.” 

What have we to do ? ” 

Eh, pardieu ! we have to get possession of Mazarin.” 

Athos thrust out his lips contemptuously. 

Such expeditions do not suit me, you know, Aramis.” 

“ Why so ? ” 

Because they resemble stratagems.” 

Eeally, Athos, you would be a singular general of an 
army : you would only fight in open daylight ; you would send 
your adversary word of the very hour you meant to attack 
him ; and you would be most careful that no attempt should 
be made on him during the night, for fear that he should 
accuse you of taking advantage of the darkness.” 

Athos smiled. 

You know,” said he, that no one can change his nature. 
And, besides, do you rightly understand our position, and 
whether the arrest of Mazarin might not be rather an evil than 
an advantage — an inconvenience rather than a triumph ? ” 

“ Say at once, Athos, that you disapprove of my proposition.” 

‘‘No; on the contrary, I think that it is fair play. Never- 
theless ” — 

“ Nevertheless what ? ” 

“ I think you ought not to have made those gentlemen swear 
that they would say nothing to Mazarin ; for, by so doing, you 
have almost engaged not to do anything yourself.” 

“ I engaged for nothing, I assure you ; I consider myself as 
perfectly free. But come, come ! ” 

“ Where ? ” 

“ To M. de Beaufort or M. de Bouillon ; we will lay the 
circumstances before them.” 

“Yes, but on one condition: that we shall begin with the 


TtîE geneeAltsstmo's three lieutenants. 687 


coadjutor. He is a priest — he is skilled in cases of con- 
science ; and we will lay ours before him.” 

Ah ! ” said Aramis, “ he will spoil all — he will appropriate 
all. Instead of commencing, let ns end with him.” 

Athos smiled. It was evident that he had an idea at the 
bottom of his heart which he did not disclose. 

‘^Yery well,” said he ; with whom shall we begin ?” 

With M. de Bouillon, if you like ; he is the first on our 
way.” 

Now, you will allow me to do one thing, will you not? ” 

“ What is that ? ” 

Let me go to the Hôtel du Grand-Empereur-Charlemagne, 
to greet Baoul.” 

Why, certainly ; I will go there with you, and we will 
both give him our greeting.” 

They took the boat that had brought them to the Louvre, 
and were carried to the market-place. There they found 
Grimaud and Blaisois, who were holding their horses ; and all 
four proceeded to the Bue Guénégaud. 

But Baoul was not at the Hôtel du Grand Boi. He had 
received a message from the Prince that morning, and had 
departed with Olivain as soon as he had received it. 


CHAPTEB LXXXI. 

THE generalissimo’s THREE LIEUTENANTS. 

According to arrangement Athos and Aramis, on leaving the 
Hôtel du Grand-Boi-Charlemagne, proceeded to the Due de 
Bouillon’s hôtel. 

The night was dark, and although the silent and solitary 
hours were approaching there was no cessation of those 
thousands of noises that keep a besieged city awake. At every 
step they met with barricades, at each turn they came against 
chains stretched across the streets, each square was full of 
bivouacs of soldiers. The patrols were passing up and down 
exchanging the watchwards ; messengers sent by the different 
chiefs were flying hither and thither; animated dialogues, 
showing the general excitement, were taking place between 
the pacific inhabitants, who were leaning out of their windows, 


688 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


and the more warlike citizens, who were hastening through 
the streets, armed with partisan or arquebus. 

Arainis and Athos had not proceeded a hundred paces 
before they were stopped by sentinels placed at the barricades, 
who demanded the watchword; but they replied that they 
were going to the Due de Bouillon’s to give him some im- 
portant information, and the sentinels were satisfied to give 
them a guide, who, under pretence of accompanying and clear- 
ing the way for them, was ordered to watch them. This man 
had set olf before them, singing : 

^ Ce brave Afonsieur de Bouillon 
Est incommodé de la goutte,^ ” ^ 

This was one of the newest triolets, composed of I know not 
how many couplets, in which every one was introduced. 

On reaching the neighbourhood of the Hôtel de Bouillon 
they passed a small troop of three horsemen, who had all the 
watchwords, for they were proceeding without guide or escort, 
and who, on reaching the barricades, had only to exchange 
some words with those who guarded them, to be allowed to 
pass, with all the deference, no doubt, due to their rank. On 
seeing them Athos and Arainis stopped. 

‘‘ Oho ! ” said Arainis, do you see. Count ? ” 

Yes,” replied Athos. 

What do you think of these three hors^ien ? ” 

AVhat do you think of them, Arainis ? ” 

‘‘ That they are our men.” 

You are not mistaken. I certainly recognised M. de 
Flamarens.” 

And I, M. de Châtillon.” 

“ And the cavalier in the brown cloak ” — 

“ It was the Cardinal.” 

In person.” 

How the devil do they dare thus to hazard themselves so 
near the Hôtel de Bouillon ? ” exclaimed Arainis. 

Athos smiled, but said nothing ; and five minutes after, they 
knocked at the Prince’s door. 

It was guarded by a sentinel, as is the custom with men of 
superior rank ; and a small picket was established in the 
courtyard, ready to obey the behests of the Prince de Conti’s 
lieutenant. 


1 “ The brave Due de Bouillon 
Is laid up with the gout.” 


THE GENERALISSIMO'S THREE LIEUTENANTS, 689 


As the ballad declared, the Due de Bouillon had the gout, 
and was in bed ; but in spite of this serious indisposition, 
which had prevented his mounting his horse for a month, — 
that is to say, since Paris had been in a state of siege, — he 
was not the less disposed to receive the Comte de la Père and 
the Chevalier d’Herblay. 

The two friends were therefore introduced into the Due de 
Bouillon’s room. The invalid was in bed, but surrounded by 
the most complete assortment of military ornaments that could 
possibly be imagined. There was nothing on the walls but 
swords, pistols, cuirasses, and arquebusses ; and it was evident 
that as soon as he got rid of the gout, M. de Bouillon would 
give the enemies of the Parliament a pretty skein of thread 
to unravel. In the meantime, to his great regret as he said, 
he was obliged to keep his bed. 

Ah, gentlemen, ” he exclaimed, on perceiving his two 
visitors, and making such an effort to raise himself on his bed 
as extracted from him a painful grimace, — “ you are happy ! 
You can mount your horses, come and go, and fight for the 
cause of the people. But I, as you may perceive, am nailed 
to my bed. Ah, this infernal gout ! ” said he, making another 
grimace, — this infernal gdfit ! ” 

Monseigneur,” said Athos, “ we are just returned from 
England, and our first step on reaching Paris has been to come 
and inquire after your health.” 

Many thanks, gentlemen, many thanks ! ” replied the 
Duke ; my health is very bad, as you may see, — this in- 
fernal gout ! Ah, you are just come from England ? And 
King Charles is well, so I have this minute heard ? ” 

He is dead, monseigneur,” said Aramis. 

Bah ! ” said the astonished Duke. 

Dead on the scaffold — condemned by the Parliament.” 

Impossible ! ” 

“And executed in our presence.” 

“ What was it, then, M. de Elamarens was telling me ? ” 

“ M. de Elamarens ! ” said Aramis. 

“ Yes ; he has just left me.” 

Athos smiled. 

“ With two companions ? ” said Aramis. 

“ Yes, with two companions,” replied the Duke. Then he 
added, with some anxiety : “Can you have met them ? ” 

“ Yes, in the street, we believe,” said Athos. 


690 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


And lie looked with a smile at Aramis, who, on his side, 
regarded him with no slight astonishment. 

This infernal gout ! ” exclaimed M. de Bouillon, evidently 
ill at ease. 

Monseigneur,” said Athos, “ really it requires all your great 
devotion to the cause of Paris to remain, suffering as you are, at 
the head of armies ; and your perseverance excites the admira- 
tion of M. d’Herblay and myself.” 

What would you have, gentlemen ? It is absolutely neces- 
sary, and you are yourselves examples of it, — you, so brave 
and devoted, — you, to whom my dear colleague, the Due de 
Beaufort, owes his liberty and perhaps his life, — it is abso-' 
lutely necessary to sacrifice one’s-self for the public good. There- 
fore, you see, I sacrifice myself ; but I confess to you that my 
strength is exhausted. My heart is good, my head is good, 
but this infernal gout is destroying me ; and I confess that if 
the Court did justice to my demands — my just demands, for 
all I ask is an indemnity promised by the old Cardinal himself 
when I was deprived of my principality of Sedan — yes, I con- 
fess if they gave me domains of equal value, if they indemnified' 
me for the deprivation of this property since it was taken from':, 
me — that is to say, for eight ytars ; if the title of prince were 
accorded to those of my family ; and my brother Turenne rein- 
stated in his command, why, then I would immediately retire 
to my estates, and let the Court and Parliament settle their : 
affairs as they thought fit.” 

“ And your Excellence would be quite right,” replied Athos. ' 
“ It is your opinion, is it not, Monsieur le Comte de la Fère ? ” ' 
Entirely so.” • 

And yours also, Chevalier d’Herblay ? ” t 

Perfectly so.” : 

“Well, then, I confess to you, gentlemen,” resumed the 
Duke, “ that in all probability it is that which I shall adopt. 
The Court is at present making overtures to me ; and it only 
remains with me to accept them. Up to this time I li%Ÿe re- 
jected them ; but since such men as you say that I am wrong, 
and above all as this infernal gout renders it impossible for 
me to be of any service to the cause of the Parisians, why, 
faith ! I have a great mind to follow your advice, and to accept 
the proposition that M. de Chatillon has just made me.” i 
“ Accept it. Prince, accept it,” said Aramis. - i 

“ Faith ! and I will, then. I am even sorry that I almost] 


THE GENERALISSIMO'S THREE LIEUTENANTS. 691 


rejected it this evening. But there is a conference to-morrow, 

' and we shall see.’^ 

i The two friends bowed to the Duke. 

; Go, gentlemen,” said he, go ; yon must be very much 
; fatigued with your journey. Poor King Charles ! But, after 
j all, he was somewhat at fault in the business ; and what ought 
! to console us is, that France has nothing to reproach herself 
with on the occasion, and that she did all she could to save 
j him.” 

I Oh, as to that,” said Aramis, we are witnesses to it — 
! M. de Mazarin in particular ! ” 

AVell, now, I am very glad that you bear him that testimony. 

1 He is good at the core, that Cardinal ; and if he were not a 
I foreigner — Ah, well, they will do him justice at last. Aïe ! 
i this infernal gout ! ” 

! Athos and Aramis left the room, but M. de Bouillon’s cries 
I followed them even to the ante-chamber. It was evident that 
1 the poor Prince was suffering the tortures of the damned, 
j Having reached the street door : Well, now,” said Aramis, 
I “ what do you think ? ” 

“ Of what ? ” 

“ Of M. de Bouillon, pardieu ? ” 

I “ My friend, I think what the triolet of our guide thinks,” 
replied Athos : 

“ ^ Ce pauvre Duc de Bouillon 

Est incommodé de la goutte.' ” i , 

“ Therefore,” said Aramis, “ I did not breathe a syllable to 
him of the object that took us to his house.” 

“ And you acted prudently ; you would have brought on a 
violent fit. Let us now go to M. le Beaufort.” 

And the two friends proceeded towards the Hôtel de Ven- 
dôme. 

It struck ten o’clock just as they reached it. 

The Hôtel de Vendôme was not less carefully guarded and 
presented a no less warlike aspect than M. de Bouillon’s. 
There were sentinels, a picket in the , court, stacked arms, and 
saddled horses fastened to the rings. Two horsemen were com- 
ing out just as Athos and Aramis entered, so that the latter 
were obliged to draw their horses back to let them pass. 

“Aha! ge- tlemen,” said Aramis, “this is decidedly a night 
for meetings ; and I confess that we should be very unfortunate. 


692 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


after having met so often this evening, if we could not manage 
to meet to-morrow.’’ 

Oh ! as for that, sir,” replied Chatillon, — for he it was who i 
was leaving the Due of Beaufort’s house with Flamarens, — Î 
you may make yourself perfectly easy. If we meet during i 
the night, without looking after one another, much more shall i 
we meet during the day, when we desire it.” 

I hope so, sir,” said Aramis. | 

And I am sure of it,” replied the Duke. j 

Flamarens and Châtillon proceeded on their way, and Athos i 
and Aramis dismounted. 

Scarcely had they thrown the bridles of their horses over the 
arms of their lacqueys, and disencumbered themselves of their 
cloaks, before a man came up to them, and after having looked 
at them for a minute by the doubtful light of a lantern hung 
up in the middle of the court, he uttered an exclamation of sur- 
prise, and came and threw himself into their arms. 

“ Comte de la Fère ! ” he exclaimed ; “ Chevalier d’Herblay ! 
How came you to be in Paris ? ” 

Bochefort ! ” said the two friends at the same time. 

Yes, certainly. We came up from Yendomois, as you know, 
four or five days ago, and we are preparing to give some trouble 
to Mazarin. You are still of our party, I presume ? ” S 

More so than ever. And the Duke ? ” j 

He is furious against Mazarin, You are aware of our dear « 
Duke’s success ? He is the real King of Paris ; he cannot go \ 
out without being almost stified.” | 

^‘Ah! so much the better,” said Aramis. But tell me, did 
not M. de Flamarens and M. de Chatillon just this moment go 
out ?” ^ 

‘‘ Yes, they have just had an audience of the Duke. They 
come from Mazarin, no doubt ; but they will have found whom ' 
they had to deal with, I ’ll answer for it.” | 

All in good time,” said Athos. But can one have the I 
honour of an interview with his Highness ? ” 

Certainly, and this very instant, too ; you know that he is 
always visible to you. Follow me ; I claim the honour of pre- 
senting you.” 

Kochefort preceded them. All the doors opened before him 
and the two friends. They found M. de Beaufort just going 
to sit down at table. The thousand occupations of the even- 
ing had delayed his supper until that hour j but in spite of the ; 


THE GENERALISSIMO'S THREE LIEUTENANTS. 893 

importance of the circumstance, the Prince no sooner heard 
the two names announced by Rochefort than he arose from his 
chair, which he was just drawing to the table, and came 
eagerly forward to meet the friends. 

Ah, pardieu! ” said he; ‘‘welcome, gentlemen! You are 
come to share in my* supper, are you not ? Boisjoli, inform 
hToirniont that I have two guests. You know Noirmont, do 
you not, gentlemen ? He is my steward, the successor of 
Father Marteau, who manufactures excellent pies, as you 
know. Boisjoli, let him send one of his genuine ones, but not 
of the kind that he made for La Ramée. Thank God ! we do 
not now want rope ladders, daggers, or choke-pears.’’ 

“ Monseigneur,” said Athos, “ do not, on our account, incon- 
venience your illustrious steward, with whose numerous and 
varied talents we are well acquainted. This evening, with 
your Highness’s permission, we will only have the honour of 
inquiring after your health, and of taking your orders.” 

“ Oh, as to my health, you may see, gentlemen, it is excel- 
lent. The health that could withstand five years in the Bas- 
tille, besides M. de Chavigny, is able to bear everything. As 
for my orders, faith, I confess that I should be much embar- 
rassed to give you any, seeing that every one gives his own, 
and that should this continue I shall end by giving none at all.” 

“Indeed,” said Athos ; “but I thought that the Parliament 
depended on your union.” 

“ Ah, yes ! our union — it is a fine thing. With the Due de 
Bouillon all goes on well as yet : he has the gout, does not 
leave his bed, and one can manage to agree with him. But as 
for M. d’Elbeuf and his elephants of sons — do you know the 
triolet on the Duke d’Elbeuf, gentlemen ? ” 

“ No, monseigneur.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 

The Duke began to sing : 

^ ‘ Monsieur cTElheuf et ses enfants 

Font rage à la Place Royale, 

Ils vont tous quatre qna ffant, 

Monsieur cV Elheuf et ses enfants. 

1 “ Monsieur d’Elbeuf and bis big sons 
In the Place Royale are mighty ones; 

At home they fear nor guns nor daggers, 

Weli done, D’Elbeuf, and thy big braggers! 

But when in the field the fighting comes. 

Good-by to the courage of D’Elbenf’s sons. 

Monsieur d’Elbeuf and his three big sons 
In the Place Royale are mighty ones,” 


694 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Mais sitôt qiv’il faut battre aux champs 
Adieu leur humeur martiale ; 

Monsieur d^Elheuf et ses enfants 
Font rage à la Place Royale.^ ” 

‘‘But/’ said Athos, ^^this is not also the case with the coad- 
jutor, I hope ? ’’ 

Ah, well, yes ! With the coadjutor it is even worse. God 
preserve you from quarrelsome prelates, especially when they 
carry a cuirass under their simar. Instead of keeping himself 
quiet in his palace to sing Te Deums for the victories that 
we do not gain, or for the victories where we are beaten, do 
you know what he does ? ’’ 

No.” 

He raises a regiment to which he gives his name — the 
regiment of Corinth. He makes lieutenants and captains 
neither more nor less than a marshal of France, and colonels 
like the King.” 

Yes,” said Aramis but when there is any fighting, I 
hope he then keeps in his archiépiscopal palace ? ” 

^‘Not at all. There you are mistaken*, my dear D’Herblay. 
When there is any fighting, he fights ; so that as the death of 
his uncle has given him a seat in Parliament, he is now per- 
petually on his legs, either in the Parliament, at the council, 
or in the combat. The Prince de Conti is general in appear- 
ance — but what an appearance ! A hump-backed general ! 
Ah ! all this goes very badly, gentlemen, — all this goes very 
badly.” 

So that your Highness is discontented ? ” said Athos, 
exchanging a look with Aramis. 

Discontented, Count ? Say that my Highness is furious. 
So much so — I tell it to you, though I would not tell it to 
others — so much so that if the Queen would confess her 
faults toward me, if she would recall my mother from exile, 
and give me the reversion of the admiralty, which now belongs 
to my father and was promised me at his death, — well, then 
I should not be disinclined to train dogs whom I would teach 
to say that there are greater thieves in France than M.*^ de 
Mazarin.” 

It was no longer merely a look, but a look and a smile, that 
Athos and Aramis exchanged ; and even if they had not met 
them, they would have surmised that Flamarens and Châtillon 


THE GENERALISSIMO'S THREE LIEUTENANTS. 695 


had been there also. Therefore they did not breathe a word 
I of M. de Mazarin’s presence in Paris. 

I ‘‘ Monseigneur,” said Athos, we are now quite satisfied, 
i We had no other motive in coming here, at this time of night, 
I than to show our devotion to your Highness, and to tell 
you that we are still at your service as your most faithful 
followers.” 


‘‘ As my most faithful friends, gentlemen, — as my most 
faithful friends. You have given me proof of it ; and should 
I ever be reconciled to the Court, I shall prove, I hope, that I 
, also have remained your friend, as well as the friend of those 
other gentlemen — what the devil do you call them ? — D’Ar- 
, tagnan and Porthos ? ” 
j D’Artagnan and Porthos.” 

Ay, yes ! that is it. Therefore you understand, Comte de 
' la Père, you understand, Chevalier d'Herblay, I am entirely 
and always yours.” 

I Athos and Araniis bowed and left the room. 

My dear Athos,” said Aramis, I verily believe that you 
i consented to accompany me, God forgive me ! only to give me 
a lesson.” 

Wait now, my dear,” said Athos ; it will be time for you 
i to discover this when we leave the coadjutor’s house.” 

“Come along, then, to the archiépiscopal palace,” said 
I Aramis. 

; And they went towards the City. 

1 On approaching the cradle of Paris, Athos and Aramis 
: found the streets inundated, and they were obliged again to 
I take a boat. 

! It was past eleven o’clock ; but it was known that there was 
no ‘fixed hour for presenting one’s-self before the coadjutor, his 
j incredible activity turning night into day, according to the 
j* exigency of circumstances. 

j The archiépiscopal palace arose out of the bosom of the 
waters ; and it might have been imagined, from the number of 
boats moored against the sides all round the palace, that one 
was not in Paris, but at Venice. These boats were plying 
back and forth, crossing one another in all directions, burying 
Themselves in the mazes of the streets of the city, or disap- 
I pearing in the direction of the Arsenal or the Quay Saint 
'Victor, where they floated as on a lake. Some of these boats 
were mute and mysterious ; others noisy and brilliantly lighted. 


696 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


The two friends glided along through this world of little ves- 
sels, and landed in their turn. 

The entire ground floor of the palace was inundated; but 
stairs or ladders had been fitted to the walls, and the only change 
made by the inundation was that, instead of entering by the 
doors, they entered by the windows. So Athos and Aramis 
landed in the prelate’s ante-room ! This ante-room was filled 
with lacqueys, for a dozen gentlemen of rank were crowded 
into the waiting-room. ; 

Mon Dieu ! ” said Aramis ; look there, Athos ! Can this | 
fop of a coadjutor be going to give us the pleasure of kicking ! 
our heels in his ante-chamber ? ” 

Athos smiled. 

My dear friend,” said he, “ you must take men with all 
the inconveniences of their position. The coadjutor is, at this ; 
moment, one of the seven or eight kings reigning in Paris. 
He has a court.” 

, Yes,” said Aramis, but we are not courtiers.” 

So, then, let us send up our names ; and if he should not, j 
on hearing them, give us a proper answer, well, then we will 
leave him to the affairs of France and his own. All we have 
to do is to find a lacquey and put a demi-pistole into his 
hand.” 

Well, really,” exclaimed Aramis, I am not mistaken ! i 
Yes — no — yes, it is Bazin ! Come here, you rascal ! ” Ï 
Bazin, who, clothed in his ecclesiastical robes, was at that I 
moment most majestically crossing the ante-room, turned' 
round with a frown, to discover who was impertinent enough | 
thus to apostrophise him. But ' scarcely had he recognised 
Aramis before the tiger became a lamb, and coming up to the 
two gentlemen : 

“ What ! ” said he ; is it really you. Monsieur le Chevalier ? i 
Is it you. Monsieur le Comte? Here you are, at the veryj 
moment that we were so uneasy about you. Oh, how happy. 
I am to see you again !” ^ i 

“Very well, very well. Master Bazin,” said Aramis; “but 
a truce with compliments. We are come to see the coadjutor ;! 
but we are in haste and must see him immediately.” j 

“ (Certainly — this instant,” said Bazin ; “ gentlemen like' 
you must not be kept waiting in ante-rooms. Only, at this' 
precise moment he is in secret conference with one M. de 
Bruy.” || 


THE GENERALISSIMO'S THREE LIEUTENANTS. 697 


“ De Bruy ! ” exciaimed both Atlios and Aramis. 

Yes, I aiiiv>unced him myself, and perfectly remember his 
name. Do yon know him, sir?^’ added Bazin, addressing 
Aramis. 

I fancy that I know him.’’ 

I cannot say the same myself,” replied Bazin ; “ for he 
was so closely muffled up in his cloak that, do all I could, I 
was not able to see the smallest bit of his face. But I will 
go and announce you; and then, perhaps, I may be more 
fortunate.” 

It is quite useless,” said Aramis : we abandon the idea 
of seeing the coadjutor this evening ; do we not, Athos ? ” 

As you please,” answered the Count. 

Yes ; he has affairs of 'too great importance to discuss with 
this M. de Bruy.” 

“ And shall I inform him that you gentlemen came to the 
palace ? ” 

“ No, it is not worth the trouble,” said Aramis. Come, 
Athos.” 

And the two friends, making their way through the crowd 
of lacqueys, left the archiépiscopal abode, followed by Bazin, 
who testified to their importance by the profusion of his bows. 

“ Well, now,” demanded Athos, when they were again in 
the boat, do you not begin to think, my friend, that we should 
, have only played these gentry a scurvy trick, had we arrested 
:M. de Mazarin?” 

. You are wisdom personified, Athos,” replied Aramis. 

What had more especially struck the two friends was the 
slight importance attributed by the Court of France to the 
[ terrible events that had happened in England, and that seemed 
to them as if they ought to engage the attention of all Europe. 

In fact, except the poor widow and the royal orphan, who 

* were weeping in a corner of the Louvre, no one seemed to 

• know that King Charles I. had ever existed, or that this King 
had just perished on the scaffold. 

The two friends made an appointment to meet at ten o’clock 
in the morning ; for, although the night was far advanced 
1 when they reached the door of the hôtel, Aramis pretended 
' that he had yet several visits of importance to pay, and 
allowed Athos to enter alone. 

' The next morning as it was striking ten they again met. 
i Since six o’clock in the morning Athos had himself been out. 


698 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Well, have you any news ? ’’ he asked. 

‘^None whatever. D’Artagnan has not been seen any where, 
and Porthos has not yet made his appearance. And on your 
side ? 

Nothing.’^ 

“ The devil ! ’’ said Aramis. 

In fact,” said Athos, “ this delay is npt natural. They 
took the most direct road, and consequently ought to have 
arrived before us.” 

Add, also,” said Aramis, that we know how quickly 
D’Artagnan moves, and that he is not the man to have lost an 
hour, knowing that we were waiting for him.” 

“ He calculated, if you remember, on being here by the fifth.” 

“ And here it is the ninth. This evening ends the period 
fixed for waiting.” 

What do you think of doing,” inquired Athos, if we 
have no news of them this evening ?” . 

Set to work searching for them, to be sure.” 

Good ! ” said Athos. 

But Baoul ? ” demanded Aramis. 

A slight cloud passed over the Count’s brow. 

Baoul gives me a good deal of anxiety,” said he. ‘‘ Yes- 
terday he received a message from the Prince de Conde ; he 
went to join him at St. Cloud, and -is not returned.” ^ 

Have you not seen Madame de Chevreuse ? ” ‘ 

She was not at home. And you, Aramis, — you went, I 
suppose, to Madame de Longueville’s ? ” 

Yes, I did.” 

Well ? ” 

She was not at home either ; but she had left the address 
of her new abode.” 

And where was she ? ” 

“ Guess ? I will give you a thousand times.” 

How do you suppose I can guess where any one is at mid- ' 
night ? — for I presume that when you left me you went to ' 
her. How can you expect me to guess where the most beau- 
tiful and the most active of all the ladies of the Fronde is at 
midnight ?” 

At the Hôtel de Ville, my dear.” 

At the Hôtel de Ville ! Why ! Is she appointed provost ^ 
of the merchants ? ” .r 

“ No ; but she has been made provisional Queen of Paris C 


I 


THE generalissimo's THREE LIEUTENANTS, 699 


and as she did not dare, just at first, to establish herself at 
the Palais Royal or at the Tuileries, she installed herself in 
the Hôtel de Ville, where she is on the point of presenting the 
dear Duke with an heir or an heiress.” 

Why did you not tell me this before ? ” said Athos. 

Bah ! It was sheer forgetfulness ; excuse me.” 

“ Now, what shall we do until the evening ? ” asked Athos. 
“We really have nothing to do, it appears.” 

“ You forget, my friend, that we have our work cut out for 
us.” 

“ Where ? ” 

“ At Charenton, morbleu ! I have hopes of meeting there, 
according to promise, a certain M. de Chatillon, whom I have 
a long time detested.” 

“ What for ? ” 

“ Because he is the brother of a certain M. de Coligny.” 

“ Ah, that is true 5 I had forgotten it ! — he who presumed 
to the honour of being your rival. But he was cruelly pun- 
ished for that audacity, my dear, and that ought to satisfy 
you.” 

“ Yes, but what would you have ? That does not satisfy 
me. I am rancorous ; it is the sole point by which I hold my 
connection with the Church. But after all, you understand, 
Athos, there is no obligation on you to go with me.” 

“Come now,” said Athos, “you are jesting.” 

“ In that case, my dear, and if you are determined to go 
with me, there is no time to lose ; the drum is beating. I met 
the cannon just setting off — I saw the citizens placing them- 
selves in order of battle on the Place of the Hôtel de Ville ; 
and there is certainly going to be an engagement in the 
direction of Charenton, as the Duke de Châtillon said yester- 
day.” 

“ I should have thought,” said Athos, “ that last night’s 
conferences would have made some alterations in these war- 
like preparations.” 

“ Yes, without doubt ; but they will fight nevertheless, were 
it only more completely to mask these conferences.” 

“ Poor people ! ” said Athos ; “ they go to get themselves 
killed that M. de jÇouillon may obtain possession of Sedan, 
that M. de Beaufort may procure the reversion of the admi- 
ralty, and that the coadjutor may become a cardinal. ” 

“ Come, come, my dear,” said Aramis, “ confess that you 


700 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


would not be philosophical were not your Raoul mixed up 
with all this squabble/’ 

Perhaps you say the truth, Aramis.” 

Well, then, let us go where there is fighting; it is a sure 
method of finding P’Artagnan, Porthos, and perhaps Raoul.” 

“Alas ! ” said Athos. 

“ My good friend,” said Aramis, “ now that we are in Paris, 
believe me, you should lose that habit of constantly sighing. 
Morbleu ! in war times let it be war times, Athos. Do you 
no longer wear a sword, and have you become a Churchman ? 
There, look at those handsome citizens going by ; it is quite 
charming, tudieu ! And that captain, do you see ? — he really 
has almost a military gait.” 

“ They are coming out of the Rue du Mouton.” 

“ With drums at their head, like real soldiers. But just 
look at that rogue : how straight he carries himself — how 
he struts!” 

“ Heu ! ” said Grimaud. 

“ What ? ” asked Athos. 

“ Planchet, sir.” 

“Lieutenant yesterday,” said Aramis, “captain to-day, 
colonel to-morrow without doubt ; in a week the rogue will be 
a marshal of Prance.” 

“ Let us get some news from him,” said Athos. 

And the two friends went up to Planchet, who, prouder than 
ever to be seen on duty, deigned to explain to the two gentle- 
men that he had received orders to take up a position on the 
Place Royale, with two hundred men, forming the rear guard 
of the Parisian army, and to march on Charenton when he was 
wanted. 

As Athos and Aramis were going in the same direction, they 
escorted Planchet to his post. 

Planchet made his men manœuvre skilfully enough on the 
Place Royale, and drew them up in the rear of a long line of 
citizens, who were placed in the Rue and Faubourg de St. 
Antoine, waiting for the signal of battle. 

“ The day will be a hot one,” said Planchet, in his most 
warlike tone. 

“ Yes, no doubt,” said Aramis ; “ but the enemy are a long 
way off.” 

“We shall soon shorten the distance,” said a leader of ten 
men. 


THE COMBAT OF CHARENTON. 


701 


Aramis bowed. Then addressing Athos : 

I do nob much like encamping in the Place Royale with 
all these gentry/’ said he. Shall we go forward ? We 
shall see things better.” 

And, besides, M. de Chatillon will not come to look for 
you in the Place Royale — is not that so ? Come, then, let us 
go forward, my friend.” 

Have you not two words to say on your own part to M. 
de Plamarens ? ” 

“ My friend,” replied Athos, I have formed a resolution 
never to draw my sword again unless I am absolutely com- 
pelled to do so.” 

And how long is it since you formed this resolution ? ” 

Since I drew my dagger.” 

Ah, good ! Another memorial of M. Mordaunt. Well, 
my dear, only one thing more is wanting, which is, to feel 
remorse for having slain him ! ” 

Hush ! ” said Athos, putting his finger on his lips with 
that melancholy smile peculiar to himself ; ‘Het us not.,%lk 
any more of Mordaunt — it will bring us misfortune.” 

And Athos pushed forward towards Charenton, skirting the 
faubourg, then the valley of Pecamp, all black with armed 
citizens. 

It is superfluous to say that Aramis followed him, half a 
horse’s length behind. 


CHAPTER LXXXII. 

THE COMBAT OF CHARENTON. 

As Athos and Aramis passed the different corps drawn up 
on the road, they saw burnished and glittering cuirasses begin- 
ning to take the place of rusty arms, and bright muskets the 
motley array of halberds. 

‘‘ I fancy that this is the real battle-field,” said Aramis. 

Do you see that body of cavalry that is drawn up in front of 
the bridge, with pistol in hand ? Ah ! take care — here comes 
the artillery.” 

Ah ça, *my dear,” said Athos, where have you brought us ? 
It seems to me that I can see, all round us, faces of men 


702 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


belonging to the Royal Army. Is not that M. de Chatilloii 
himself coming forward, with his two brigadiers ? ’’ 

■ And Athos drew his sword ; while Aramis, thinking that he 
had gone beyond the limits of the Parisian camp, put his hand 
to his holster. 

“ Good morning, gentlemen,’^ said the Duke, coming up ; ‘‘I 
perceive that you do not understand what is going on ; but one 
word will explain it all : we are having a truce for the moment ; 
there is a conference. The Prince, M. de Retz, M. de Beau- 
fort, and M. de Bouillon are now talking politics. Now, two 
different circumstances will bring the same result : either affairs 
will not be arranged, and we shall meet, Chevalier ; or they 
will be arranged, and, as I shall then be relieved from my com- 
mand, we shall still meet.’’ 

“ Sir,” said Aramis, you speak wonderfully well. Allow 
me, then, to ask you one question ? ” 

Certainly, sir.” 

/I Where are the plenipotentiaries ?” 

^ «lAt Charenton, in the second house on the right as you 
erSer from Paris.” 

<^iAnd was not this conference foreseen ?” 

‘?No, gentlemen. It seems it is the result of new proposi- 
tions that M. de Mazarin made the Parisians last evening.” 

Athos and Aramis looked at each other and laughed. They 
knew better than any one else what these propositions were, 
to whom they had been made, and who had made them. 

And the house where the plenipotentiaries are,” demanded 
V Athos, belongs to ” — 

M. de Chanleu, who commands your troops at Charenton. 
I say your troops, because I presume that you gentlemen are 
Frondeurs.” 

“ Why, pretty nearly so,” said Aramis. 

What do you mean ! Pretty nearly so ? ” 

Certainly, sir. You know better than any one else that in 
these times it is impossible to tell exactly what one is.” 

We are for the King and the princes,” said Athos. 

“ Now we must understand each other,” said Chatillon : 
the King is with us, and he has for his commanders-in- 
chief M. d’Orléans and M. de Condé.” 

“ Yes,” said Athos, but his place is in our ranks, with M. 
de Conti, M. de Beaufort, M. d’Elbeuf, and M. de Bouillon.” 

That may be,” rei3lied Chatillon; «and it is very well 


THE COMBAT OF CHARENTON. 


703 


known I have but slight sympathy for M. de Mazarin. My 
interests, also, are all in Paris ; I am there engaged in a great 
lawsuit on which depends all my fortune ; and only just now I 
have been to consult my lawyer.’^ 

“ At Paris ? ” 

‘^No, at Charenton : M. Viole, whom you must know by 
name, — an excellent man, only a little headstrong ; but he is 
not in the Parliament for nothing. I calculated on seeing him 
yesterday evening; but our meeting prevented my occupying 
myself with my own affairs. However, as business must be 
attended to, I took advantage of the truce ; and that is the 
^reason why I am now in the midst of you.’^ 

Does M. Viole give his consultations in the open air ? ” 
asked Aramis, laughing. 

Yes, sir, and even on horseback. He commands five hun- 
dred good pistol-shots to-day ; and I paid him a visit, accom- 
panied, to do him honour, by these two small pieces of cannon, 
at the head of which you appeared so astonished to see me. I 
confess that I did not know him at first : fie has a long sword 
over his robe and pistols at his belt ; this gives him a formid- 
able air that would quite delight you, if you had the good fort- 
une to meet him.’’ 

“ If he is such a curious sight, it would be worth while to 
look for him,” said Aramis. 

“ Then you must make haste, sir, for the conferences cannot 
last much longer.” 

And should they be broken off without producing any^'* 
result,” said . Athos, are you going to endeaVour to take * 
Charenton ? ” 

“ Those are my orders. I command the attacking troops, 
and will do my best to succeed.” 

Sir,” said Athos, since you command the cavalry ” — 

Pardon me. I am Commander-in-Chief.” 

Still better. You must know all the officers — I mean all 
those who are at all distinguished.” 

Yes, pretty nearly so.” 

Would you, then, be good enough to tell me if you have 
not under your orders the Chevalier d’ Artagnan, a lieutenant 
of Musketeers ? ” 

“ No, sir, he is not with us. He left Paris six weeks ago, 
and is said to have gone on a mission to England.” 

I know that, but supposed he was returned;” 


704 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


“ No, sir, and I do not know that any one has seen him; I 
can answer you the better on this subject, because the Mus- 
keteers are with us, and M. de Gambon, in the meantime, is 
taking M. d’Artagnan’s place.” 

The two friends looked at each other. 

You see,” said Athos. 

“ It is strange,” said Aram is. I 

Some misfortune must positively have happened to them 
on the road.” 

“ To-day is the eighth, and the term appointed expires this 
evening. Should we receive no intelligence of them to-night, 
we will depart to-morrow morning.” 

Athos gave a nod of assent. Then turning round : 

And M. de Bragelonne, a young man of fifteen years of 
age, attached to the Prince,” asked Athos, somewhat confused 
at thus displaying his paternal anxiety before the sceptical 
Aramis, “ has he the honour of being known to you. Monsieur ;j 
le Duc ? ” i! 

Yes, certainly,” replied Chatillon ; he came here this ■ 
morning with the Prince. He is a charming young man ! Is . 
he one of your friends. Count ? ” i 

Yes, sir,” replied Athos, slightly agitated, so much so r 
that I greatly wish to see him. Is it possible ? ” 

Quite possible, sir. If you will accompany me, I will ; 
conduct you to headquarters.” 

Holà ! ” said Aramis, turning round ; there is a great ' 
.noise behind us, it seems to me.” 

’T is true ; a body of horsemen is coming toward us,” said 
Chatillon. . 

I recognise the coadjutor by his Pronde hat.” 

^‘jAnd I, M. de Beaufort by his white plumes.” 

“ They are coming on at a gallop. The Prince is with them. ! 
Ah ! there he leaves them.” | 

‘‘ They are beating the recall ! ” exclaimed Chatillon. Do 
you hear ? We must gain some information.” 

In fact, the soldiers were seen running to their arms, the 
horsemen who had dismounted were springing into their sad- 
dles, the trumpets were sounding, the drums were beating. .M. 
de Beaufort drew his sword. 

On his side, the Prince also gave the signal of recall, and 
all the officers of the Boyal army, who had for a short time 
been mingling with the Parisian troops, hastened to him. 


THE COMBAT OF CHARENTON. 705 

Geiitleiiien,” said Chatillon, the truce is evidently broken, 
and we are going to fight. Eeturn to Charenton, for I shaD 
shortly attack it. Observe the signal that the Prince gives 
me.” 

In fact, a cornet thrice raised the Prince’s standard in the air. 

* An revoir, Chevalier,” exclaimed Chatillon, and he set off 
[ at full gallop to rejoin his escort. 

j Athos and Aramis turned their horses’ heads and went to 
salute the coadjutor and M. de Beaufort. M. de Bouillon had 
had such a terrible fit of the gout toward the end of the con- 
; ference that they were obliged to carry him back to Paris in 
i a litter. 

As some compensation the Due d’Elbeuf, surrounded by his 
four sons as by his staff, was hastily inspecting the ranks of 
the Parisian army. 

In the meantime between Charenton and the Boyal army a 
large open space was formed, which seemed to be prepared to 
serve as the last receptacle for the dead bodies. 

This Mazarin is really a disgrace to France ! ” said the 
coadjutor, tightening his sword-belt, which he wore, after the 
fashion of the ancient military prelates, over his archiépiscopal 
simar ; “ he is a stingy rascal, who would manage France like 
a farm. Therefore France cannot hope for peace and happi- 
ness until he shall have left it.” 

“ It seems that they have not agreed on the colour of his 
! hat,” said Aramis. 

! At the same moment M. de Beaufort raised his sword. 

I “ Gentlemen,” said he, we have been making fruitless 
! efforts to negotiate. We wished to relieve ourselves of that 
contemptible Mazarini ; but the Queen, who is infatuated by 
him, insists on keeping him as her Minister ; so that there 
remains but one expedient for us, which is, to fight con- 
gressly.” 

‘^Good ! ” said the coadjutor. Here we have M. de Beau- 
fort’s usual eloquence.” 

Happily,” said Aramis, he corrects the faults of his lan- 
guage by the point of his sword.” 

Faugh ! ” said the coadjutor contemptuously ; I can 
assure you that he is but a poor thing in this war.” 

And he drew his sword in turn. 

Gentlemen,” said he, the enemy approaches ; we shall do 
well, I think, to spare him half the journey.” 


706 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


And, without disturbing himself as to whether he was fol- 
lowed or not, off he went. His regiment, which bore the name 
of the Ivegiment of Corinth, being the title of his archbishopric, ; 
set off after him and began the skirmish. 

M. de Beaufort launched his cavalry, under the command of 
M. de Hoirmoutiers, toward Étampes, where he was to meet a 
convoy of provisions anxiously expected by the Parisians. M. 
de Beaufort prepared to support him. 

M. de Chanleu, who commanded the place, kept himself, 
with the strongest body of his troops, ready to resist the 
assault, and even to attempt a sortie in case the enemy were 
repulsed. 

In about half an hour the combat had begun at every point. 

The coadjutor, exasperated by M. de Beaufort’s reputation 
for courage, dashed forward, and was performing prodigies of 
valour. His vocation was the sword, you know, and he was 
happy whenever he had an opportunity of drawing it from the 
scabbard, no matter for whom or for what. But in the present 
case, if he did his duty well as a soldier he performed it badly 
as a colonel. With seven or eight hundred men he had at- 
tacked three thousand ; who, in turn, had moved forward in 
one mass with such a shock that they drove back the coadju- 
tor’s soldiers to the ramparts in complete disorder. But the fire 
of Chanleu’s artillery had checked the Boyal army, which ap- 
peared shaken for an instant ; but that lasted only a short time, 
and they re-formed behind a group of houses and a small wood. 

Chanleu fancied that the time was now come; he pushed 
forward, at the head of two regiments, to follow the Boyal 
army ; but, as we have said, it had re-formed, and was coming 
back to the charge, led by M de Chatillon in person. The 
charge was so severe, and so skilfully managed, that Chanleu 
and his men found themselves almost surrounded. Chanleu 
commanded a retreat, which he began to execute foot by foot, 
step by step ; but unfortunately, in a moment, Chanleu him- | 
self fell, mortally wounded. i 

M. de Chatillon saw him fall, and announced his death in a | 
loud voice, which redoubled the courage of the Boyal army, I 
and completely demoralized the two regiments with which 
Chanleu had made the sortie. In consequence, each man i 
thought of his own safety, and only occupied himself with the 
care of regaining the ramparts, at the foot of which the coad- 
jutor was trying to rally his shattered regiment, 


THE COMBAT OF CHARENTON. 


707 


Suddenly a squadron of cavalry rushed forward to meet’ the 
conquerors, who were coming pellmell with the fugitives into 
the entrenchments. Athos and Aramis charged at their head 
— Aramis with sword and pistol in his hand, Athos with his 
sword in the scabbard and his pistols in their holsters. Athos 
was as calm and cool as on parade, except that his handsome 
and noble countenance was saddened when he saw so many 
men cutting one another’s throats, and sacrificing themselves 
on the one side to the obstinacy of the Court, and on the other 
to the rancour of the princes. Aramis, on the contrary, rev- 
elled in the slaughter, as usual with him. His eyes were like 
flames ; his mouth, so finely shaped, wore a deadly smile ; 
his inflated nostrils inhaled the odour of blood ; every one of 
his sword-cuts was given with deadly correctness ; and the 
butt end of his pistol finished the wounded who endeavoured 
to rise again. 

On the opposite side and in the ranks of the Eoyal army, 
two horsemen, one covered by a gilded cuirass, the other by a 
plain buff-coat from which issued the sleeves of a blue velvet 
doublet, were charging in the front rank. The Chevalier in 
the gilded cuirass rushed to meet Aramis, and aimed at him a 
sword thrust, which he parried with his usual skill. 

Ah ! is it you, M. de Chatillon ? ” exclaimed the Chevalier. 

Welcome ! I was expecting you.” 

I hope that I have not made you wait too long, sir,” 
replied the Duke. At any rate, here I am.” 

Monsieur de Châtillon,” said Aramis, drawing from his 
holster a pistol which he had reserved for this occasion, if 
your pistol be discharged, I think you are a- dead man.” 

Thank God, it is not, sir,” said Chatillon. 

And the Duke, levelling his pistol at Aramis, aimed and 
fired. But Aramis stooped his head just as he saw the Duke 
apply his finger to the trigger, and the ball passed over his 
head without touching him. 

Oh ! you have missed me ! ” said Aramis ; but I swear 
by God that I will not miss you.” 

If I give you time ! ” cried M. de Chatillon, spurring his 
horse and bounding on him, with his sword raised on high. 

Aramis waited for him with that terrible smile that was 
characteristic of him on such an occasion ; and Athos, who saw 
M. de Chatillon coming against Aramis with the rapidity of 
lightning, opened his mouth to cry, “ Fire ! Fire now ! ’’ when 


T08 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


the shot was fired. M. de Chatillon threw out his arms and 
fell back on his horse’s crupper. 

The ball had entered his breast by the hollow of the cuirass. 

I am a dead man ! ” murmured the Duke. 

And he fell from his horse to the earth. 

“ I told you so, sir, and I am now sorry that I kept my word 
so well. Can I be of any service to you ? ” 

Chatillon made a sign with his hand, and Aramis was about 
to dismount, when he suddenly received a violent blow in the 
side from a sword, but his cuirass parried the blow. 

He turned quickly and seized this fresh antagonist by the 
wrist, when two cries were uttered at the same instant, one 
by himself, the other by Athos. 

Eaoul ! ” 

The young man at the same moment recognised the counte- 
nance of Chevalier d’Herblay’s face and his father’s voice, and 
dropped his sword. Many of the Parisian horsemen then 
rushed on Eaoul, but Aramis covered him with his sword. 

‘‘ My prisoner !” he exclaimed. Give way ! ” 

Athos then took his son’s horse by the bridle and led him 
out of the fray. 

At this moment M. le Prince, who was supporting M. de 
Chatillon in the second line, appeared in the midst of the"? 
skirmish ; his eagle eyes were seen to sparkle, and he was 
recognised by his blows. 

On perceiving him the regiment of the Archbishop of Cor- 
inth, which the coadjutor had been vainly endeavouring to 
rally, threw itself into the midst of the Parisian troops, over- 
threw everything in its way, and fled into (Jharenton, through 
which it passed without stopping. The coadjutor, carried 
away by it, passed near the group formed by Athos, Aramis, 
and Eaoul. 

“ Aha ! ” cried Aramis, who, from his jealousy, could not 
help rejoicing in the check the coadjutor had received, — in 
your character of archbishop, your Excellence ought to know 
the Scriptures.” 

“ And what have the Scriptures to do with what is now tak- 
ing place ? ” asked the coadjutor. 

‘‘ That the .Prince treats you to-day as St. Paul did see 

First Corinthians.” 

Come, come ! ” said Athos, that is a clever jest ; but we 
must not wait here bandying compliments. Forward, forward ! 





M. DE CHÂTILLON THREW OUT HIS ARMS AND FELL BACK 


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THE COMBAT OE CHARENTON. 


709 


Or, rather, retreat ; for the battle seems to be lost to the Fron- 
deurs/^ 

It is all the same to me,’’ replied Aramis. All I came 
here for was to meet M. de Chatillon. I have met him ; and I 
am satisfied. A duel with a Chatillon is rather flattering.” 

“ And a prisoner to boot ! ” said Athos, pointing to Eaoul. 

The three cavaliers continued their course at a gallop. 

The young man had experienced a thrill of joy on meeting 
his father. They galloped side by side, the young man’s left 
hand being in Athos’s right. 

When they were some distance from the battle-field : 

What were you going to do, so forward in the skirmish, my 
dear ? ” said Athos to the young man ; “ that was not your 
proper place, I think, not being suitably armed for the 
combat.” 

But then I was not to fight to-day, sir. I had received a 
commission from the Prince to the Cardinal, and was just set- 
ting off for Eueil, when, seeing M. de Châtillon charge, I was 
seized with a longing to charge by his side. He then told me 
that two gentlemen of the Parisian army were looking for me, 
and he mentioned the Comte de la Fère.” 

What ! You knew that we were there, and yet wished to 
kill your friend, the Chevalier ? ” 

I did not recognise the Chevalier under his armour,” said 
Eaoul, colouring ; although I ought to have done so by his 
address and coolness.” 

Thank you for the compliment, my young friend ; it is evi- 
dent that you have received good lessons in courtesy. But 
you were going to Eueil, you said ? ” 

Yes.” 

To the Cardinal ? ” 

Certainly. I am the bearer of a despatch from the Prince 
to his Eminence.” 

“ You must take it there,” said Athos. 

Oh ! as regards that, one moment, if you please. No false 
generosity. Count. What the devil ! Our own fate and, what 
is more important, the fate of our friends, perhaps, depends on 
that despatch.” 

^^But this young man must not fail in his duty,” replied 
Athos. 

In the first place, you forget. Count, that the young man is 
a prisoner. What we do, therefore, is perfectly fair. Besides, 


710 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


the conquerors must not be too fastidious in their use of means. 
Give me the despatch, Eaoul.’^ 

Eaoul hesitated, at the same time, looking at Athos as if to 
seek for. a rule of action in his eyes. 

Give up the despatch,’’ said Athos; ‘^you are the Cheva- 
lier d’Herblay’s prisoner.” 

Raoul yielded with reluctance ; but Aramis, less scrupulous 
than the Comte de la Fère, seized the despatch with eagerness, 
ran it over, and then gave it to Athos. 

You who are a believer,” said he, read this letter, and, on 
reflection, you will perceive something in it that Providence 
deems important for us to know.” 

Athos took the letter with a frown ; but the idea that it 
had something to do with D’Artagnan aided in conquering the 
repugnance he had to read it. The letter was as follows : 

Your Excellence : 

“ I will this evening send to your Eminence the ten men 
that you asked for, to reinforce M. de Comminges’ s troop. 
They are good soldiers, fit to restrain the two rough adversa- 
ries whose address and resolution your Eminence fears. 

“ Oho ! ” said Athos. 

Well, now,” demanded Aramis, what do you think of the 
two adversaries, to guard whom ten good soldiers are neces- 
sary, independent of Comminges’s troop ? Does not this seem 
like two drops of water to D’Artagnan and Porthos ? ” 

‘^We will ransack Paris all to-day,” said Athos; “and 
should we get no news this evening, we will take the road to 
Picardy ; and I will answer for it, thanks to D’Artagnan’s 
imagination, that we shall not be long before we discover some 
indication that will relieve our doubts.” 

“ Let us ransack Paris, then, and inquire of Planchet, espe- 
cially, whether he has not heard something of his old master.” 

“ Ah, poor Planchet ! You talk of him very easily, Aramis. 
He has doubtless been massacred. All those warlike citizens 
must Jiave gone out, and have no doubt been killed.” 

As this was probable enough, the two friends with some 
anxiety entered Paris by the Porte du Temple and went to the 
Place Royale, where they thought they might hear something 
of these poor citizens. But great was the astonishment of 
the two friends to find them and their captain still encamped 


THE ROAD TO PICARDY. 


711 


on the Place Koyale, drinking and joking, while they were 
doubtless lamented by their families, who had heard t he report 
of the cannon at Charenton, and believed them to be in the 
midst of the battle. 

Athos and Aramis made further inquiries of Flanchet, but 
he had heard nothing of D’Artagnan. They wished to take 
him with them ; but he informed them that he could not leave 
his post without superior orders. 

At five o’clock these citizens returned to their homes, declar- 
ing that they had just come from the battle. They had never 
lost sight of the bronze horse of Louis XIII. ! 

A thousand thunders ! ” said Planchet, on entering his shop 
in the Pue des Lombards ; we have been utterly routed ! I 
shall never console myself for it ! ” 


CHAPTER LXXXIII. 

THE ROAD TO PICARDY. 

Athos and Aramis, who were perfectly safe in Paris, did 
not hide from themselves that as soon as they set their foot 
beyond it they would be in the midst of the greatest dangers. 
But we know what these men thought of danger. Besides, 
they saw that the catastrophe of this second Odyssey was 
approaching, and that there was only one more tug to be 
made, as the saying goes. 

Then, again, Paris itself was by no means calm. Provisions 
were beginning to fail ; and whenever any one of the Prince 
de Conti’s generals wanted to regain his influence, he excited a 
slight insurrection which he quelled himself, and thus for the 
moment secured some superiority over his colleagues. 

In one of these commotions M. de Beaumont caused Maza- 
rin’s house and library to be pillaged, to give, as he said, the 
poor people something to gnaw. 

Athos and Aramis left Paris just after this stroke of ^late 
policy, which took place during the evening of the day when 
the Parisians were beaten at Charenton. 

They left Paris wretched enough, bordering on a famine, 
agitated by fears, torn by factions. As they were Parisians 
and Frondeurs, they expected to find the same misery, the same 


712 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


fears, and the same intrigues in the enemy’s camp. So th« r 
surprise was great when, on passing through St. Denis, th* y 
learned that at St. Germain there was laughing, singing, and 
a joyous life. 

At first the two gentlemen took the by-roads, that they 
might not fall into the hands of the Mazarinists s(}attered 
about on the Isle of France; and afterwards to escape the 
Frondeurs, who had possession of Normandy, and who would 
not have failed to take them to M. de Longueville, that he 
might determine whether they were friends or foes. Having 
once got clear of these two dangers, they returned to the Bou- 
logne road at Abbeville and followed it step by step. 

Nevertheless, they were for some time in a state of uncer- 
tainty. They had questioned three or four innkeepers with- 
out making one single discovery to clear away their doubts, or 
to guide their researches ; when, at Montreuil, Athos felt some- 
thing rough on the table. He lifted the cloth and read these 
hieroglyphics deeply cut into the wood with the point of a 
knife : 

Fort — D’Art — 2d February.^’ 

First rate ! ” exclaimed Athos, pointing out the inscription 
to Aramis. We were going to sleep here, but it is useless. 
Let us go farther.” 

They again mounted their horses, and reached Abbeville. 
There they stopped in great perplexity, on account of the 
number of taverns. They could not visit them all ; and how 
could they divine in which those they sought had lodged ? 

‘‘ Believe me, Athos,” said Aramis, we must not think of 
finding anything at Abbeville. If we are puzzled, our friends 
would not be less so. If Porthos had been alone, he would 
have gone to the most splendid hotel ; and by having that 
pointed out to us, we should be sure of finding some traces of 
him. But D’Artagnan has no such weakness, and Porthos 
might in vain protest that he was dying of hunger. He doubt- 
less continued his route, inexorable as Fate, and we must look 
fart^ier on.” 

So they went on their way, but nothing presented itself. 
This was one of the most painful, as well as most tiresome, 
tasks that Athos and Aramis had ever undertaken ; and had 
it not been for the threefold motive of honour, gratitude, and 
friendship set deep in their souls, our two friends would have 


THE ROAD TO PICARDY, 


713 




fwj^ousand times given up in despair this searching the sand, 
(pjpstioning passers-by, studying signs, and examining counte- 
nances. 

In this manner they went even to Peronne. 

Athos was beginning to despair. His noble, sensitive dispo- 
sition made him take all the blame for the doubt in which he 
and Aramis found themselves. They had performed their 
search unskilfully of course, they had not been sufficiently 
explicit in their questions, or persevering enough in their in- 
vestigations. They were very near retracing their steps, when, 
on crossing the faubourg that led to the gates of the city, on a 
white wall that formed the angle of a street skirting the ram- 
part, Athos caught sight of a sketch in black, which repre- 
sented, with the simplicity of a child’s first effort, two horsemen 
galloping wildly ; one of them held in his hand a scroll, on 
which was written, in Spanish, these words : 

“ We are pursuedP 


. “ Oho ! ” said Athos, this is as clear as the day. Although 

pursued, D’Artagnan must have stopped here for five minutes. 
This proves that he was not very closely pursued ; perhaps he 
I managed to escape.” 

Aramis shook his head. 

If he had escaped,” said he, “ we should have seen him, or 
‘at least we should have heard of him.” 
i You are right, Aramis ; let us proceed.” 

To depict the anxiety and impatience of the two gentlemen 
would be impossible. The anxiety rested on Athos ’s tender 
and friendly heart ; the impatience belonged to Aramis’s ner- 
vous and excitable disposition. So, for three or four hours, they 
I galloped on as wildly as the two horsemen on the wall. Sud- 
b denly, in a narrow gorge enclosed between two banks, they 
^[saw the road partially blocked up by an enormous bowlder. 
Its original situation was indicated on the side of one of the 
; banks, and the kind of bed that it had left by its extraction 
proved that it had not rolled down without aid; while its 
weight indicated that it must have required the arm of an 
Enceladus or a Briareus to move it. 

Aramis stopped. 

; Oh ! ” said he, looking at the boAvlder, “ there is something 
|j]i that that tells either of Ajax, the son of Telamon, or of 


714 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Porthos. Let us dismount, if you please, Count, and exiuiine 
this rock/’ 

They both dismounted. The stone had been evidently 
brought there to interrupt the passage of horsemen. It had, 
therefore, been at first placed across the road ; then the horse- 
men had found this obstacle, had dismounted, and removed it. 

The two friends examined the bowlder on all the exposed 
sides, but found nothing particular. They then summoned 
Blaisois and Grimaud, and all four managed to turn the 
bowlder over, and on the side that touched the earth was 
written : 

Eight Light Dragoons are following us. Should we reach 
Compiegne, we shall stop at the Faon-Couronné the land- 
lord is a friend.” 

Here is something positive,” said Athos ; and in either 
case, we know what to do. So let us go to the Faon- 
Couronné.'^^ 

‘‘ Yes,” replied Aramis ; but if we wish to reach it, we 
must give our horses some rest ; they are almost foundered.” 

Aramis was right. They stopped at the first tavern, and 
had each horse given a double portion of oats steeped in wine. 
They also gave them three hours’ rest, and then renewed their 
journej^ The men themselves were worn out with fatigue, 
but hope sustained them. 

Six hours later they made their way into Compiègne, and 
inquired for the Faon- Couronné. A sign, representing the 
god Pan with a crown on his head, was pointed out to them. 

The two friends dismounted without taking any notice of 
the sign, which, at any other time, Aramis would have severely 
criticised. They found the landlord, who was a fine fellow, 
bald and portly as a Chinese mandarin, and asked him whether 
he had not been lodging two gentlemen pursued by some Li^ht 
Dragoons. The landlord, without answering a word, went and 
took out of a trunk the half of a rapier bl'ade. 

“ Do you know that ? ” said he. 

Athos merely cast a glance at this blade. 

It is D’Artagnan’s sword,” said he. 

The short or the tall man’s ? ” asked the host. 

The short one,” replied Athos. 

I see that you are friends of these gentlemen.” 

Well, what has happened to them ? ” 

1 The Crowned Peacock. Paon is pronounced like Pan. 


THE ROAD TO PICARDY. 


715 


They came into my courtyard with horses foundered, and 
before they had time to shut the gate eight Light Dragoons, 
who were pursuing them, followed them in.” 

“ Eight ! ” exclaimed Aramis. “ It astonishes me that 
D’Artagnan and Porthos, two such valiant men, should allow 
themselves to be taken by eight men.” 

No doubt, sir; and those eight men would not have man- 
aged it, if they had not been reinforced by some twenty men 
from the Poyal Italian regiment, which is in garrison in this 
town ; so that your two friends were, literally, overwhelmed 
by numbers.” 

Arrested ? ” said Athos ; and is it known why ? ” 

<^No, sir ; they were taken away immediately, and they had 
not time to tell me anything. Only, when they were gone I 
found this fragment of a sword on the field of battle, while I was 
helping to pick up two dead men and five or six wounded.” 

And were they not hurt ? ” asked Aramis. 

No, sir ; I believe not.” 

There ! ” said Aramis, that is some comfort.” 

And do you know where they were taken ? ” inquired 
Athos. 

Toward Louvres.” 

Let us leave Blaisois and Grimaud here,” said Athos ; 
to-morrow they will return to Paris with the horses, which 
would break down if we rode them farther to-day, and we will 
take post.” 

“ Yes, let us take post,” said Aramis. 

Fresh horses were sent for, and in the meantime the two 
friends made a hasty dinner. They wished to continue their 
journey, if they could find any news at Louvres. 

On reaching Louvres they found there was only one inn there. 
Here they drank a liqueur which has retained its celebrity 
even to our days, and which was manufactured there even at 
that period. 

Let us dismount here,” said Athos. D’Artagnan will 
not have lost such an opportunity as this, not only to drink 
the liqueur, but to leave some trace for us.” 

They entered, and asked for two glasses of the liqueur at 
the counter, as D’Artagnan and Porthos might have done. 
The counter at which it was customary to drink was covered 
by a pewter ; on this plate was scratched with the point of a 
coarse pin — Kueil, D.” 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


TIG 

‘‘They are at Kueil/’ said Aramis, whose attention this 
inscription first attracted. 

“ Let us go back to Rueil, then,” said Athos. 

“It is to cast ourselves into the jaws of the wolf,” said 
Araniis. 

“ Had I been Jonah’s friend as I am D’Artagnan’s,” said 
Athos, “ I would have followed him even into the whale’s 
belly ; and yon would have done the same thing, Aramis.” 

“ Positively, my dear Count, I believe that yon make me 
better than I am. If I were alone, I do not know whether I 
should go to Rueil without taking great precautions. But 
where you go I go.” 

They took horses and set off for Rueil. 

Athos, without suspecting it, had given the very best advice 
to Aramis that could be followed. The parliamentary depu- 
ties had just reached Rueil for those famous conferences 
which lasted three weeks, and produced that lame peace at 
the termination of which M. le Prince was arrested. Rueil was 
crowded with advocates, presidents, counsellors, and lawyers of 
every description from the Parisians ; and with gentlemen, offi- 
cers, and guards from the Court. So it was very easy, in the 
midst of such confusion, to remain as unknown as any one 
might wish to be. Besides, the conferences had brought about 
a truce ; and to arrest two gentlemen at such a moment, even 
were they Frondeurs of the highest grade, would have been 
an invasion of the rights of the people. 

The two friends imagined that every one must be occupied 
by the thought that tormented them. They mingled in the 
groups, in the hope of hearing something said about D’Arta- 
gnan and Porthos ; but every one was thinking only of the 
Articles, and their amendments. Athos suggested the pro- 
priety of going direct to the Minister. 

“ My friend,” objected Aramis, “ what you say is all very 
excellent. But we must be careful ; our safety depends on 
our obscurity. If we make ourselves known in any way, we 
shall immediately be sent to join our friends in some deep 
dungeon, whence Satan himself could not get us out. So let us 
try to find them, not by accident, but according to our own clev- 
erness. Arrested at Compiègne, they were brought to Rueil, 
as we were assured at Louvres ; having been brought to Rueil, 
they were examined by the Cardinal, who, after this examina- 
tion, has either kept them near- him or sent them to Saint 


THE ROAD TO PICARDY. 


717 


Germain. They are not at the Bastille, for the Bastille is in 
the hands of the Frondeurs, and Broussel’s son has the com- 
mand of it. They are not dead, for D’Artagnaii's death 
would have caused a great sensation. And Borthos I believe 
to be as immortal as God, though less patient. Let us not 
despond, then ; let us remain at Bueil ; for my conviction is 
that they are at Bueil. But what is the matter with you? 
You look pale!’’ 

Why,” said Athos, in a voice that almost trembled, I 
remember that Richelieu built a horrible oubliette ! ” 

“ Oh ! do not distress yourself about that,” said Aram is. 
‘‘ Richelieu was a gentleman, our equal by birth, our superior 
by his position. He could, like a king, touch the greatest of 
us on the head, and, by his touch, make our heads shake on 
our shoulders. But M. de Mazarin is a pitiful coward, who, at 
the best, can only take you by the collar like a bailiff. Cheer 
up, then, my friend! I still maintain that D’Artagnan . and 
Porthos are at Rueil, living, and living well too.” 

Never mind,” said Athos; we must obtain from the 
coadjutor the privilege of being at the conferences, and thus 
we can enter Rueil.” 

With all those horrible lawyers ? Can you think of it, my 
friend ? And can you imagine that there will be the least 
discussion about the liberty or imprisonment of D’Artagnan 
and Porthos ? No ; I am of opinion that we should find some 
o£her method.” 

Well, then,” said Athos, I return to my first idea : I 
know no better way than to act candidly and loyally. I will 
go, not to Mazarin, but to the Queen ; and I will say to her : 

‘ Restore us your two servants and our two friends ! ’ ” 
Araniis shook his head. 

It is a last resource, of which you will be always at lib- 
erty to avail yourself, Athos ; but do not use it, I beg of you, 
until the last extremity. It will be time enough to come to 
that. In the meantime, let us continue our search.” 

So they continued their search, and made so many men talk 
under a thousand pretexts, each more ingenious than the other, 
that at length they found a Light Dragoon, who confessed 
that he was one of the escort that brought D’Artagnan and 
Porthos from Compiegne to Rueil. Had it not been for the 
Light Dragoons, it would not have been known that they had 
entered Rueil. 


718 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


Athos was constantly reverting to his idea of seeing the 
Queen. 

“ To see the Queen,” said Arainis, ^^it would first be neces- 
sary to see the Cardinal. And hardly shall we have seen the 
Cardinal — remember what I say, Athos — before we shall be 
united to our friends, but not in the manner that we propose. 
Now I confess that this mode of being united to them does 
not much please me. Therefore let us act in freedom, that we 
may act well and rapidly.” 

I shall see the Queen,” replied Athos. 

“ Well, then, my friend, if you are resolved to do this 
foolish thing, tell me, I pray you, one day before you make ! 
the attempt.” 

And why so ? ” 

‘‘ Because I shall take advantage of it to go and pay a visit 
at Paris.” 

To whom ? ” 

Forsooth ! I know not ; perhaps to Madame de Longueville. 
She is all-powerful there, and will assist me. Only if you 
should be arrested, contrive to let me know by some one ; and 
I will then do my best to get to you.” j 

‘‘ And why not risk being arrested with me, Aramis ? ” de- 
manded Athos. 

No, I thank you.” 

Being all four arrested and united, I think that we should 
run no risk. At the end of four-and-twenty hours we should 
all be free.” 

“ My dear, since I slew Chatillon, the idol of the ladies at 
St. Germain, I have too much personal celebrity not to have a ! 
double dread of imprisonment. The Queen would be inclined 
to follow Mazarin’s advice on such an occasion, and the coun- 
sel he would give would be to have me convicted.” 

But do you think, Aramis, that she loves this Italian so 
much as they say ? ” 

She certainly loved an Englishman.” 

Ah ! my dear fellow, she is a woman.” 

No ; you are mistaken, Athos : she is a queen ! ” 

My dear friend, I devote myself, and shall ask an audience 
of Anne of Austria.” 

Adieu, Athos ! I am going to levy an army.” 

For what ? ” 

“ To return and besiege Rueil.” 


THL GRATITUDE OF ANNE OF AUSTRIA. 719 


Where shall we meet again ? ’’ 

At the foot of the Cardinal’s gallows.” 

And the two friends separated, Aramis to return to Paris, 
Athos to open up a way to the Queen by some preparatory 
steps. 


CHAPTER LXXXIV. 

THE GRATITUDE OF ANNE OF AUSTRIA. 

Athos found much less difficulty than he anticipated in 
making his way to Anne of Austria. On the contrary, every- 
thing went smoothly from the first, and the audience that he 
desired was granted for the following day, at the termination 
of the levee, to attend which he was entitled by his rank, 

A vast crowd filled the apartments at St. Germain ; never, 
either at the Louvre or at the Palais Royal, had Anne of 
Austria a greater number of courtiers. They were, however, 
chiefly composed of the nobles of the second rank ; while the 
first gentlemen of France were with M. de Conti, M. de Beau- 
fort, and the coadjutor. 

It was the peculiar characteristic of this war that there 
were more couplets composed than cannon-shot fired. The 
Court made ballads on the Parisians, who, in turn, lampooned 
the Court ; and the wounds, although not mortal, were not the 
less painful, inflicted, as it were, by the shafts of ridicule. 

But, in the midst of this general hilarity and this apparent 
trifling, a mighty anxiety was hidden in the depths of all their 
thoughts. Would Mazariii remain minister and favorite, or 
not ? Or would Mazarin, who came from the south like a cloud, 
depart like a cloud carried away by the wind that had brought 
him ? Every one hoped it, every one desired it — so much so 
that the Minister felt that all the homage and all the flattery 
that surrounded him concealed a mine of hatred imperfectly 
disguised by fear and interest. He felt ill at ease, not knowing 
whom to trust or whom to depend on. 

M. le Prince himself, who was contending for him, never let 
an opportunity slip to ridicule or to humble him ; and on two 
or three occasions when Mazarin wished to have his own way 
before the conqueror of Rocroy, he had received from him 


720 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


such a look as made him understand that if he defended him 
it ^as neither from conviction nor from enthusiasm. 

Then the Cardinal fell hack on the Queen, his sole support. 
But on two or three occasions he fancied that even this support 
was tottering beneath his hand. 

The hour of audience having arrived, the Comte de la Fère 
was informed that it would take place, but that he must wait 
a short time, as the Queen had to consult with her Minister. 

This was true. Paris had just sent a fresh deputation au- 
thorized at last to give a final turn to affairs ; and the Queen 
was consulting with Mazarin as to the reception she should 
give these deputies. 

The anxiety was very great amongst the principal persons 
of the State. Athos, therefore, could not have chosen a worse 
time to speak of his friends — poor atoms lost amid this 
tumultuous whirlwind. 

But Athos was a most inflexible man, who never parleyed j 
when he had once made a decision that emanated from his 
conscience and w^as dictated by his duty. So he insisted on 
being presented, saying that though he was not sent by M. de 
Conti, M. de Beaufort, M. de Bouillon, M. d’Elbeuf, the coad- 
jutor, Madame de Longueville, M. de Broussel, or by the Par- 
liament, but merely came on his own account, he had things 
of not less importance to communicate to her Majesty. 

When the conference was finished, the Queen summoned him 
to her cabinet. 

Athos was introduced and gave his name. It was a name | 
that had too often resounded in her Majesty’s ears, and too 
often vibrated in her heart, for Anne of Austria to forget it. 
Nevertheless, she remained perfectly unmoved, contenting her- i 
self with looking at the gentleman with that earnestness which i 
is only permitted to women who are queens, either by virtue 
of their beauty or their rank. 

Are you come to offer us your services. Count ? ” asked 
Anne of Austria, after a moment’s silence. 

“ Yes, madame, another service,” said Athos, shocked by the 
Queen appearing not to recollect him. 

Athos had a great heart, and consequently made a bad court- 
ier. 

Anne frowned. Mazarin, who was seated at a table, han-. 
dling papers like a simple secretary of State, raised his head. 

Speak,” said the Queen. 


THE GRATITUDE OF ANNE OF AUSTRIA. 721 


Mazariii again began handling his papers. 

“ Madame,” replied Athos, two of our friends, — two of 
your Majesty’s most intrepid servants, — M. d’Artagnan and 
M. dll Vallon, having been sent to England by the Cardinal, 
have suddenly disappeared at the very moment when they 
landed in France, and it is not known what has become of 

them. ” 

“ AVell ?” said the Queen. 

“Well, then,” continued Athos, “I address myself to your 
Majesty’s kindness to know what has become of these gentle- 
men, reserving my right, should it be necessary, to appeal to 
your justice.” 

“ Sir,” said Anne of Austria, with that haughtiness which 
when used toward some men became impertinence, “ is this, 

then, the reason that you trouble us in the midst of the great 
cares that disturb us? An affair of police! Ah, sir, you 
know well enough, or you ought to know, that we have no 
longer any police since we have left Paris.” 

“ I believe,” said Athos, bowing with a cold respect, “ that 
your Majesty would not have any need to inquire of the police 
what has become of M. d’Artagnan and M. du Vallon, and that 
if you would ask Monsieur le Cardinal where these gentlemen 
are. Monsieur le Cardinal could himself answer, without refer- 
ring to anything else than his memory.” 

“Well, God forgive me!” said Anne of Austria, with that 
disdainful motion of the lips characteristic of her ; “ I verily 
believe that you interrogate me yourself.” 

“ Yes, madame ; and I have almost the right to do so ; for 
it concerns M. d’Artagnan — M. d’Artagnan, do you under- 
stand, madame ? ” said he, in a tone that made the Queen’s 
haughty brow bend at the thought that she was a woman. 

Mazarin saw that it was time for him to come to the Queen’s 
aid. 

“ Monsou le Comte,” said he, “ I wish to tell you one thing, 
of which her Majesty is ignorant; and that is, what has really 
happened to those two gentlemen. They have disobeyed orders 
and are under arrest.” 

•‘I therefore entreat your Majesty,” said Athos, still cool, 
and without answering Mazarin, “to release M. d’Artagnan 
and M. du Vallon from their confinement.” 

“ What you ask of me is an affair of discipline, and does 
not concern me, sir,” replied the Queen. 


722 


TWENTY YEAES AFTER. 


M. d’Artagnan never gave such an answer when he was 
engaged in your Majesty’s service/’ said Athos, bowing with 
dignity. 

And he took two steps back to reach the door. Mazarin 
stopped him. 

“ You are also just come from England, sir,” said he, making 
a sign to the Queen, who turned visibly pale, and was prepar- 
ing to give some severe order. 

“ And I was present at the last moments of King Charles I.,” 
said Athos. “ Poor King ! Only guilty of weakness at most, and 
punished most severely by his subjects ; for thrones are greatly 
shaken in these days, and it yields no satisfaction to devoted 
hearts to serve the interests of princes. This was the second 
time that M. d’Artagnan had visited England ; the first was 
for a great Queen’s honour ; the second, for a great King’s life.” 

“ Sir,” said Anne of Austria to Mazarin, in a tone from 
which all her habit of dissimulation was not able to drive the 
genuine expression, “ see if you cannot do something for these 
gentlemen.” 

Madame,” replied Mazarin, I will do whatever your 
Majesty pleases.” 

^^Do what M. le Comte de la Fère requests. Is not that, 
your name, sir ? ” 

I have yet another name, madame. I am called Athos. ’ 

^Œadame,” said Mazarin, with a smile that proved how 
quick he was in understanding half a word, “you may be 
assured that your wishes shall be complied with.” 

“ Did you hear, sir ? ” asked the Queen. 

“ Yes, madame; and I expected no less from your Majesiy'b 
justice. Therefore I shall see my friends again, shall I not, 
madame? That is what your Majesty means?” 

“ Yes, sir ; you shall soon see them again. But, by the way. 
you are a Erondeur, are you not ? ” 

“ Madame, I serve the King.” 

“ Yes, in your own manner.” 

“ My manner is that of all true gentlemen, and I know no 
other,” replied Athos haughtily.” 

“ Go then, sir,” said the Queen, dismissing Athos by a 
motion of her hand ; “ you have obtained what you desired to 
obtain, and we know all that we wished to learn.” 

Then, when the door was closed behind him, addressing 
Mazarin ; 


THE GRATITUDE OF ANNE OF AUSTRIA. 723 


“ Cardinal/’ said she, have this insolent gentleman arrested 
before he has left the courtyard.” 

‘‘ I was thinking of that,” said Mazarin, and I am happy 
that your Majesty gives me this order, for I was going to ask 
it of you. These turbulent fellows, who bring to our times 
the traditions of another reign, are very troublesome; and 
since we have already taken two of the number, let us add the 
third to them.” 

Athos had not been entirely the Queen’s dupe. There had 
been in her manner something that struck him as peculiarly 
threatening, even while she was promising. But he was 
not a man to take himself out of the wa,y on a simple sus- 
picion, especially when he had been clearly told that he 
should soon see his friends. So he waited in one of the rooms 
adjoining the cabinet where he had had his audience, until 
they should either bring D’Artagnan and Porthos to him or 
come to lead him to them. 

While waiting, he went up to the window, and was mechani- 
cally looking out into the courtyard. He saw the deputation 
from Paris just coming in, to settle upon the place where the 
conferences were to be held, and to pay their respects to the 
Queen. There were parliamentary counsellors, presidents, 
and advocates, among whom some gentlemen were almost lost. 
An imposing escort was waiting for them outside the iron- 
grated gates. 

Athos was looking earnestly down, for amid the throng he 
fancied he recognised some one, when he was lightly touched 
cn the shoulder. He turned round. 

Ah, Monsieur de Comminges ! ” said he. 

‘‘Yes, Count, and charged with an order for which I must 
beg you to excuse me.” 

“ What is it, sir ? ” asked Athos. 

“ Be kind enough to hand me your sword. Count ? ” 

Athos smiled, and opening the window : 

“ Aramis ! ” he cried. 

A gentleman turned round ; it was he whom Athos thought 
iie • cognised. This gentleman was Aramis ; he bowed in a 
filci ily way to the Count. 

xiramis,” said Athos, “ I am arrested.” 

■ Very well,” replied Aramis, most phlegmatically. 

■ Sir,” said Athos, turning to Comminges, and with great 
;)olil mess presenting him his sword by the handle, “here is my 


724 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


sword. I will thank you to keep it carefully, that it may be 
returned to me when I come out of prison. I treasure it : 
^t was given to my grandfather by King Francis I. In those 
days they did not disarm gentlemen : they armed them. Now, 
where are you going to conduct me ? ’’ 

First to my own apartment/’ replied Comminges. “ The 
Queen will decide where you will hereafter reside.” 

Athos followed Comminges without adding a single word. 


CHAPTER LXXXV. 

M. DE MAZARIN’s ROYALTY. 

The arrest of Athos did not make the slightest commotion ; 
it caused no scandal, and, in short, was almost unknown. So 
it had not hindered the progress of events ; and the deputation 
sent by the city of Paris was told, with great solemnity, that 
it might present itself before the Queén. 

The Queen received it, mute and haughty as ever. She 
listened to the grievances and demands of the deputies ; but 
when they had finished their discourse, no one could have said, 
so indifferent had remained Anne of Austria’s face, whether she 
had heard them or not. 

On the other hand, Mazarin, who was present, heard per- 
fectly well what the deputies had demanded : it was, purely 
and simply, his dismissal, in clear and precise terms. 

The speeches being concluded and the Queen remaining 
silent : 

“ Gentlemen,” said Mazarin, ‘‘ I will unite with you in sup- 
plicating the Queen to put an end to the miseries of her sub- 
jects. I have done all I could to ameliorate them ; and yet 
the public belief, you say, attributes them to me, a poor 
foreigner, who have not succeeded in pleasing the French. 
Alas! they have not understood me; and it was nal iivil 
enough. I succeeded the most eminent man that ever up!.<‘hl 
the sceptre of the kings of France. The recollection of j\). Ic 
Richelieu crushed me to the earth. If I were ambitious 
should in vain struggle against such recollections. But 1. aii. 
not ambitious ; and I wish to give a proof of it. I confess n. \ - 
self vanquished. I will do what the people demands. If thq 


M. DE MAZARINES ROYALTY. 


725 


Parisians have committed some errors — and who has not done 
so, gentlemen ? — they have been sufficiently punished for it. 
Enough of blood has flowed — sufficient misery overwhelms 
a city deprived of its King, and of justice. It is not for me, a 
private individual, to assume so much importance as to sep- 
arate a Queen from her realm ! — and since, in the name of the 
people, you demand that I retire, well, then, I will retire.’’ 

‘‘ Then,” said Aramis in his neighbour’s ear, “ peace is made 
and the conferences are nugatory. There is nothing more to 
do than to send M. Mazarin, under a strong guard, to the most 
remote frontier, and to watch that he does not return by that 
or any of the others.” 

“ One moment, sir, one moment, if you please ! ” said the 
lawyer whom Aramis addressed. Peste ! how you go on ! 
It is quite plain enough that you are gentlemen of the sword. 
There is the chapter of remunerations and indemnities to be 
disposed of.” 

‘‘ Monsieur le Chancelier,” said the Queen, addressing 
Seguier, our old acquaintance, you will open the conferences, 
which will be held at Pueil. The Cardinal has said things 
that have greatly agitated me. That is why I do not answer 
you more fully. As for what he says about remaining or 
departing, I have too much gratitude to the Cardinal not to 
leave him entire freedom of action. The Cardinal will do just 
what he pleases.” 

A transient pallor flitted across the Minister’s intelligent 
face. He looked anxiously at the Queen : her countenance 
was so impassible that he could not, any more than the others, 
read what was passing in her heart. 

“ But,” added the Queen, while we wait for M. de Ma- 
zarin’s decision, I beg of you let the King’s interests alone be 
considered.” 

The deputies bowed and left the room. 

What ! ” said the Queen, when the last had left the room, 
would you give way to these pettifoggers and lawyers ? ” 

For your Majesty’s happiness, madame,” replied Mazarin, 
looking at the Queen with piercing eye, there is no sacrifice 
that I am not prepared to make.” 

Anne hung her head, and fell into one of those re^* 
that were habitual to her. The recollection of AC 
verted to her mind. The bold manner of that ger 
his firm yet dignified language — the phantoms 


726 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


evoked by one word, recalled to her mind all the intoxicating 
poetry of the past : her youthful beauty — the brilliancy of her 
amours at twenty, and the rough combats of her supporters — 
the sanguinary end of Buckingham, the only man she had ever 
really loved — and the heroism of her obscure defenders, who 
had saved her from the double hatred of Richelieu and the 
King. 

Mazarin observed her; and now that she thought herself 
alone, and that she had no longer a crowd of enemies to spy 
upon her, he followed the thoughts passing over her face, as 
one sees the clouds, passing over the surface of transparent 
lakes, reflected like the thoughts of the sky. 

“ So it would be wise, would it,’’ murmured Anne of Austria, 
“ to yield to the storm, to purchase a peace, and patiently and 
resignedly to wait for better times ? ” 

Mazarin smiled bitterly at this proposition, which declared 
that she had understood the minister’s offer as seriously 
made. 

Anne’s head was bent down ; she did not perceive this 
smile. But finding that her question received no response, she 
raised her head : 

“ Well, Cardinal, you do not answer. What are you thinking 
of?” 

“I am thinking, madame, that that insolent gentleman, 
whom we had arrested by Comminges, made some allusion to 
M. de Buckingham, whom you allowed to be assassinated ; 
to Madame de Chevreuse, whom you allowed to be exiled ; to 
M. de Beaufort, whom you had imprisoned. But if he alluded 
to me, he did not know the relation in which I stand to 
you.” 

Anne of Austria started, as she always did when her pride 
was wounded ; she coloured, and, to avoid replying, thrust her 
sharp nails into her fair hands. 

“ He is a man of great prudence, of honour, and of talent, 
without reckoning that he is a man of resolution. You have had 
some experience of that, have you not, madame ? So I wish 
to tell him, and it is a personal favour I thus confer upon him, 

what respect he is mistaken concerning me. It is, in truth, 
what is proposed to me is almost an abdication, and an 
’on requires some reflection.” 

'dication ! ” said Anne ; I thought, sir, that it was 
who abdicated.” 


M. DE MAZARIN" S ROYALTY. 


727 


‘‘ Well/’ replied Mazarin, am. I not almost King, and even 
King of France ? I assure you, madame, that when my 
Ministerial simar is thrown over the foot of a royal bed it 
much resembles at night a king’s mantle.” 

This was one of those humiliations which Mazarin frequently 
compelled the Queen to submit to, and which invariably made 
her bow her head. It was only Elizabeth and Catherine II. 
who were both mistresses and queens to their lovers. 

Consequently Anne of Austria looked with something like 
terror at the Cardinal’s threatening face, which at such 
moments was not devoid of dignity. 

Sir,” said she, did I not say, and did not you hear me 
say, to those people that you would do just what you 
pleased ? ” 

In that case,” said Mazarin, I believe that I ought to be 
pleased to remain. It is not only my interest, but I dare to 
affirm that your own safety depends upon it.” 

Remain then, sir ; I desire nothing more ; but then do not 
allow me to be insulted.” 

You refer to the pretensions of the revolters, and , to the 
tone of their expressions ? Patience ! They have chosen a 
field of contest on which I am a more skilful general than 
themselves — the conferences. We shall beat them, merely 
by temporising. They are already hungry. It will be worse 
in a week.” 

Ah, mon Dieu ! Yes, sir, I know that we shall finish in 
that way. But I do not refer to them only ; they are not the 
persons who most hurt my feelings by their speeches. ” 

Ah ! I understand you. You wish to speak of the recollec- 
tions that those three or four gentlemen perpetually evoke. 
But we have them in prison, and they are just guilty enough 
for us to keep them there as long as it suits us. One only is 
out of our power and still braves us ; but in the devil’s name 
we shall very soon manage to unite him to his companions. 
We have done more difficult things than that, I think. I have, 
in the first place, taken the precaution to confine the two who 
are most intractable at Rueil, near to myself, under my own 
eyes and within my own reach. This day the third shall join 
them.” 

So long as they are prisoners, it will be all very well,” 
said Anne of Austria ; ^^but they will come out some day.” 

^Wes, if your Majesty should liberate them,” 


728 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Ah ! ” said Anne of Anstria, answering her own thoughts, 
now I regret Paris.” 

And why so ? ” 

For the Bastille, sir ; it is so strong and can keep a secret 
so well.” 

“ Madame, from the conferences Ave shall have peace ; Avith 
peace we shall have Paris ; with Paris we shall have the 
Bastille ! Our four bravos' will rot there.” 

Anne of Austria slightly froAvned, whilst Mazarin kissed her 
hand in taking leave of her. 

Mazarin left the room, after this half humble, half gallant 
act. 

Anne of Austria followed him with her eye, and as he dis- 
appeared a disdainful smile might be seen passing across her 
lips. 

“ I despised the love of a cardinal,” she murmured, who 
never said, I ivill do, but I have done. He knew retreats 
more secure than those of Rueil, more dark and mute than the 
Bastille itself. Oh, the world degenerates ! ” 


CHAPTER LXXXVI. 

PRECAUTIONS. 

After having left Anne of Austria Mazarin again took the 
road to Rueil, where his mansion Avas. During these troublous 
times Mazarin travelled with a strong escort, and often dis- 
guised. The Cardinal, as we have before said, Avas a very 
handsome man in the dress of a gentleman of the sword. 

In the courtyard of the old chateau he entered a carriage and 
drove doAvn to the Seine at Cliatou. M. le Prince had furnished 
him Avith fifty Light Dragoons as an escort; not so much to 
guard him as to show the deputies how easily the Queen’s 
generals disposed of the troops, and could send them about at 
their caprice. 

Athos, kept in sight by Comminges, on horseback and with- 
out his sword, followed the Cardinal without saying a word. 
Grimaud, who had been left by his master at the gate of the 
chateau, had heard the news of his arrest Avhen Athos called 
out to Aramis, and, on a sign from the Count, he had gone, 


PRECArrtON^. 


729 


without saying a word, to take his place near Aramis, as if 
nothing had happened. 

It is true that Griinaud, in the twenty-two years that he 
had served his master, had seen him extricate himself from so 
many adventures that nothing now disturbed his equanimity. 

The deputies, immediately after their audience, had again 
taken the road to Paris ; that is to say, they preceded the (lai- 
dinal by about five hundred paces. Athos, therefore, by look- 
ing before him, could see the back of Aramis, whose gilded 
belt and haughty air attracted his attention amid this throng, 
quite as much, as the hopes of deliverance that he had centred 
in him, or the attachment that usually results from sincere 
friendship. 

Aramis, on the contrary, did not seem to disturb himself at 
all as to whether he were followed by Athos or not. Once, it 
is true, he turned round. It was on reaching the chateau by 
the river. He supposed that Mazarin might perhaps leave his 
new prisoner there in the strong little fort that guarded the 
bridge, where a captain commanded for the Queen. But it was 
not so. Athos passed Chatou in the Cardinal’s train. 

At the place where the road branched off from Paris to 
Beuil, Aramis again turned round. This time he was not mis- 
taken : the Cardinal turned to the right, and Aramis could see 
the prisoner disappear round the trees. Athos, at the same 
moment, moved by a similar feeling, also looked back. The 
two friends exchanged one simple nod, and Aramis put his 
finger to his hat, as if to salute him. Athos alone understood 
that his friend made him a signal that he had an idea. 

Ten minutes after, Mazarin, with his suite, entered the court- 
yard of that chateau which the Cardinal, his predecessor, had 
put at his disposal at Bueil. 

The moment he set his foot on the steps Comminges went 
up to him. Monsignor,” said he, where is it your pleasure 
that we should lodge M. de la Père ? ” 

In the pavilion of the orangery, opposite the pavilion 
where the troops are quartered. I wish to pay M. de la Père 
every respect, although he is the Queen’s prisoner.” 

Monsignor,” Comminges ventured to say, he requests the 
favour of being conducted to M. D’Artagnan, who occupies, as 
your Eminence commanded, the hunting pavilion, opposite the 
orangery.” 

Mazarin reflected a moment. 


730 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 

Comminges saw that he was reasoning with himself. “ The 
guard is very strong,” he continued, forty tried men, proved 
soldiers, almost all Germans, and, consequently, having no 
connection with the Frondeurs and no interest in the Fronde.” 

If we were to put those three men together, Monsou de 
Comminges,” said Mazarin, “ we should have to double the 
guard ; and we are not rich enough in defenders for such prod- 
igalities.” 

Comminges smiled. Mazarin saw the smile and understood it. 

“ You do not know them, Monsou Comminges, but I do ; in 
the first place from themselves, and then by tradition. I 
ordered them to aid King Charles, and they performed wonder- 
ful actions to save him. Fate must have interposed to prevent 
the dear King Charles from being now safe amongst us.” 

But if they served your Eminence so well, why does your 
Eminence keep them in prison ? ” 

“ In prison ! And how long has Bueil been a prison ? ” 

Since there have been prisoners in it,” replied Comminges. 

These gentlemen are not my prisoners,” said Mazarin, with 
his cunning smile ; they are my guests — guests so precious 
that I have had the windows grated, and bolts put on the doors 
of the apartments they inhabit, so much do I fear that they 
may be tired of my company. But however they may, appar- 
ently, resemble prisoners, I have the very greatest esteem for 
them ; and to prove it, I wish to pay M. de la Fère a visit, to 
have a tete-h-tUe with him. So that we may not be interrupted 
in our conversation, you will conduct him, as I have before said, 
to the pavilion of the orangery : you know that it is my usual 
promenade. Well, then, while taking my promenade I will 
go into his room, and we will have some conversation. How- 
ever hostile he may be to me, as they pretend, I sympathise 
with him ; and should he prove reasonable, perhaps we may 
come to some agreement.” 

Comminges bowed and returned to Athos, who awaited with 
apparent calmness, but real anxiety, the result of the con- 
ference. 

‘‘ Well ?” he asked of the lieutenant of the Guards. 

Sir,” said Comminges, it seems that it is impossible.” 

‘‘Monsieur de Comminges,” said Athos, “I have been a 
soldier all my life ; I know, therefore, what an order is. But 
independent of this order, you could render me a great 
service.” 


PRECA ETIONS. 


731 


‘‘ I wish to do it with all my heart, sir/’ replied Comminges. 
“ Now that I know who you are and what services you formerly 
rendered her Majesty — now that I know that you are con- 
nected with that young man who so gallantly came to my 
rescue the day I arrested that old rascal Broussel, I declare 
myself entirely at your service in everything except my 
orders.’’ 

“ Thank yon, sir, I require no more ; and I am going to make 
one request that will not at all compromise you.” 

“ Should it even compromise me a little, sir,” replied Com- 
minges, smiling, “yet make it. I do not love M. Mazarini 
much more than you do. I serve the Queen, which naturally 
leads to my serving the Cardinal ; but I serve the one with all 
my heart, and the other against my inclination. Speak, then, 
I pray you. I await your request.” 

“ As there is no harm in my knowing that M. d’Artagnan is 
here,” said Athos, “ I presume that there can be none in his 
knowing that I also am here.” 

“ I have received no order on that point, sir.” 

“ Very well ; then do me the kindness to present my com- 
pliments to him, and to tell him that I am his neighbour. 
You will also inform him, at the same time, of what you told 
me just now, that M. Mazarin has placed me in the pavilion of 
the orangery, in order that he may pay me a visit ; and you 
will further apprise him that I will take advantage of that 
honour to obtain some amelioration of our captivity.” 

“ Which cannot last long,” added Comminges ; “ the Cardinal 
told me so himself. There is no prison here.” 

“ But there are oubliettes,” said Athos, smiling. 

“ Oh, that is another thing,” said Comminges. “ Yes, there 
are traditions on that subject ; but a man of low birth like the 
Cardinal — an Italian, who came to seek his fortune in France 
— would not dare go to such extremities with men like you ; it 
would be an enormity. It was all very well in the times of 
the other Cardinal, who was a man of noble birth. But Mons 
Mazarin ! — the oubliettes are royal punishments, which such 
a pitiful fellow as he is must not meddle with. Your arrest 
is known, and that of your friends will soon be made public, 
and all the noblesse of France would demand of him the 
cause of your disappearance. No, no, do not distress your- 
self; the oubliettes of Rueil have for the last ten years 
become traditions to frighten children. 8o remain witiiout 


732 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


anxiety in this place. I will iniorm M. d’Artagnan of your 
arrival. Who knows but that, in a fortnight, you may render 
me a similar service ? 

I, sir ? ’’ 

Yes, certainly ; may I not become a prisoner of the coad- 
jutor’s ? ” 

Believe me, sir,” replied Athos, bowing, that I would, in 
that case, use every exertion to gratify you.” 

“ Will you do me the honour of supping with me. Count?” 
said Comminges. 

No, I thank you, sir ; I am of a melancholy temperament, 
and should make you pass a dull evening. No, thank you ! ” 

Comminges then conducted the Count to an apartment on 
the ground floor of the pavilion, which was a part of the or- 
angery and on a level with it. They reached this orangery 
by a large court, filled with soldiers and courtiers. This 
court, which was in the shape of a horseshoe, had in its centre 
M. de Mazarin’s private apartments, and the wings were com- 
posed of the pavilion of the orangery, where Athos was now 
taken, and of the hunting pavilion, where D’Artagnan was. 
Behind these two wings extended the park. 

Athos, on entering the room destined for him, saw walls 
and roofs through his window, which was carefully grated. 

What building is that ? ” he asked. 

The back part of the hunting pavilion, where your friends 
are confined,” replied Comminges. Unfortunately the win- 
dows on this side were blocked up in the time of the other 
Cardinal ; for these two buildings have more than once served 
as a prison, and M. Mazarin, in confining you in them, has 
but restored them to their original purpose. If these windows 
had not been blocked up, you might have had the consolation 
of conversing with your friends by signs.” 

And are you quite sure, M. de Comminges, that the Car- 
dinal will do me the honour of visiting me ? ” 

At least he told me so himself, sir.” 

Athos sighed on looking at the grated windows. 

‘‘Yes, it is true,” said Comminges, “it is almost a prison ; 
nothing is wanting, not even the bars. But what singular 
idea could have taken possession of your mind — you, who are 
the flower of nobility — to go and waste your valour and loy- 
alty among all those mushrooms of the Fronde ? Keally, 
Count; if I had ever expected to find any friend in the Boyal 


PRECA UTIONS. 


733 


army, I should have thought of you. A Frondeur ! You, the 
Comte de la Fère, of the party of a Broussel, of a Blancmes- 
nil, of a Viole ! Fie, it would make it credible that madame, 
your mother, was some little lawyer’s wife. You a Frondeur!” 

Faith, my dear sir,” said Athos, “ it was necessary to be 
either a Mazarinist or a Frondeur. I made these two words 
ring in my ear for a long time, and made my decision for the 
last ; it is a French name, at any rate. And besides I am a 
Frondeur, not with M. Broussel, M. Blancmesnil, or M. Viole, 
but with M. de Beaufort, M. de Bouillon, and M. d’Elbeuf — 
with the princes, and not with presidents, councillors, and 
lawyers. And then the pleasant results of serving the Cardi- 
nal ! Look at that windowless wall, M. de Comminges, and it 
will tell you some fine things concerning the Mazarin grati- 
tude.” 

“ Yes,” replied Comminges, laughing ; and especially if it 
repeats the maledictions that M. D’Artagnan has been launch- 
ing at his head for the last week ! ” 

“ Poor D’Artagnan ! ” said Athos, with that charming melan- 
choly that constituted one of the features of his character ; a 
man so brave, so good, and so terrific to those who do not love 
those whom he loves ! You have two fierce prisoners there, M. 
de Comminges, and I pity you if the responsibility for those 
two indomitable men has been placed on your shoulders.” 

Indomitable ! ” said Comminges, smiling in turn. “ Ah, 
sir, you wish to frighten me. The first day M. D’Artagnan 
endeavoured to provoke all the soldiers and inferior officers, no 
doubt to get a sword-thrust; that lasted till the next day, and, 
indeed, the day after, but at length he became calm and as 
gentle as a lamb. Now he is singing Gascon songs that make 
us nearly die with laughter.” 

And M. du Vallon ? ” demanded Athos. 

Oh, he is a horse of another color ; I confess that he is a 
terrific gentleman. The first day he broke all the doors with 
one blow of his shoulder, and I expected to see him issue 
forth ffbin Bueil like Samson from Gaza. But his humour 
has followed the same course as his companion, M. D’Ar- 
tagnan’s ; and now he not only is growing reconciled to his 
captivity, but even jokes about it.” 

So much the better,” said Athos, so much the better.” 

Did you expect anything else ?” asked Comminges, who, 
. by comparing what Maziarin had said of his prisoners with what 


734 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


the Comte de la Fère said of them, began to feel some misgiv- 
ings. 

Athos was satisfied, on reflection, that this improvement in 
the morale of his friends arose from some plan that D’Arta- 
gnan had formed. He did not wish, therefore, to injure them 
by exalting them too highly. 

<^Well,’’ said he, ‘Hhey are hot-headed fellows. One is a 
Gascon, the other a Picard. Both take fire very quickly, but 
grow cool as speedily. You have had one proof of it, and what 
you have just told me confirms what I say.” 

As this was also Comminges’s own opinion, he retired some- 
what more assured, and Athos remained alone in his vast room, 
where, according to the Cardinal’s orders, he was treated with 
the consideration due to a gentleman. 

Moreover, he waited for this famous visit promised by the 
Cardinal, in order to form a more precise idea of his situation. 


CHAPTER LXXXVII. 

MIND AND ARM. 

Let us now pass from the orangery to the hunting pavilion. 

At the end of the court — where through a portico formed 
of Ionian pillars the dog-kennels were to be seen — arose an 
oblong building that appeared to stretch out like an arm to 
meet the other arm, the pavilion of the orangery, a semicircle 
enclosing the court of honour. 

Porthos and D’Artagnan were confined on the ground floor 
of this pavilion, sharing the long hours of a captivity so tedious 
to men of their temperaments. 

D’Artagnan was walking up and down like a tiger, with 
glaring eye, sometimes growling in an undertone through the 
bars of a wide window looking into the court of the Guards. 

Porthos was ruminating in silence, after an excellent dinner, 
the remnants of which had just been removed. 

The one seemed to have lost his reason, and was medi- 
tating; the other seemed to be meditating profoundly, and 
was sleeping; but his sleep was a species of nightmare, as 
was demonstrated by the incoherent and irregular manner in 
which he was snoring. 


MIND AND ARM. 


785 


There/’ said D’Artagnan, the day is closing ; it must be 
nearly four o’clock. We have already been almost one hun- 
dred and eighty-three hours in this room.” 

‘‘ Hum ! ” said Porthos, that he might seem to have an- 
swered. 

“ Do you hear, you eternal sleeper ? ” cried D’Artagnan, 
irritated that any one could give way to sleep in the daytime, 
when he had the greatest difficulty in the world to sleep at 
night. 

What ? ” said Porthos. 

“ What I said.” 

What did you say ? ” 

‘‘ I said,” replied D’Artagnan, that now we have already 
been almost one hundred and eighty -three hours in this room.” 

“ It is your own fault,” replied Porthos. 

“ How is it my fault ? ” 

Yes ; I offered to get us out.” 

By unfastening a bar or breaking open a door ? ” 

“ Yes, of course.” 

“ Porthos, such people as we are do not purely and simply 
go out.” 

Faith ! ” said Porthos, “ I would go out with that purity 
and simplicity that you seem to despise too much.” 

D’Artagnan shrugged his shoulders. 

‘‘ Besides,” said he, it is not merely to get out of this 
room.” 

My dear friend,” said Porthos, “ you seem to me to be in a 
rather better humour than yesterday. Explain to me how it 
is not merely to get out of this room.” 

Because, as we have neither arms nor countersign, we 
should not go fifty steps without running against a sentinel.” 

‘‘Well,” said Porthos, we should knock the sentinel on 
the head and then have his arms.” 

“Yes ; but before he is altogether knocked on the head (for 
these Swiss die hard) he would cry out, or at any rate give a 
groan, which would bring out the guard. We should then be 
tracked and taken like foxes, — we who are lions, — and we 
should be thrown into some hole of a dungeon, where we 
should not even have the consolation of seeing this frightful 
grey sky of Rueil, that is no more like the sky of Tarbes than 
the moon is like the sun. If we only had some one outside, 
some one who could give us instructions on the moral and 


736 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


physical topography of this château, on what Cæsar called 
mores et loca — at least so I have been told. Ah, only to 
think that during the twenty years when I had nothing to do, 
I should never have thought of employing one of those hours 
in coming and examining Rueil ! ” 

What does that signify ? ” said Porthos. Let us go, 
nevertheless.” 

“ My dear fellow,” said D’Artagnan, do you know why 
master pastry-cooks never work with their own hands ? ” 

No,” replied Porthos, but I should be delighted to 
learn.” 

“ It is because they are afraid of over-baking a tart or spoil- 
ing a cream before their apprentices.” 

“ And what then ? ” 

Why, then they would be laughed at ; and master pastry- 
cooks must never be laughed at.” 

“ And what have master pastry-cooks to do with us ? ” 

Only this, that in any of our adventures we ought never to 
receive a check, or to give any one a chance to laugh at us. We 
failed the last time in England ; we were beaten, and it is a 
stain upon our reputation.” 

By whom were we beaten ? ” asked Porthos. 

By Mordaunt.” 

Yes, but we drowned M. Mordaunt.” 

I know that well enough, and that will reestablish us a 
little in the eyes of posterity, provided that posterity thinks 
anything about us. But listen, Porthos : although M. Mor- 
daunt was not to be despised, M. Mazarin appears to me to be 
powerful in quite another manner, and we shall not drown him 
so easily. Let us look about us, then, and play a cautious 
game ; for,” added D’Artagnan with a sigh, we two are 
worth eight, perhaps, but we are not worth the four you 
know of.” 

^^That is true,” said Porthos, with a responsive sigh. 

“Well then, Porthos, do as I do : walk up and down here 
till some news from our friends reaches us, or till some good 
idea suggests itself ; but do not be always sleeping, as you 
are ; there is nothing that deadens the faculties like sleep. 
What awaits us perhaps is less serious than we at first imag- 
ined. I do not think that M. Mazarin has any idea of cutting 
off our heads, because he could not well do that wil iiout a 
previous trial ; and the trial would make a U'jlsr, and Ilf is 


MIND AND ARM. 


737 


noise would attract the attention of our friends, and then they 
would not permit M. Mazarin to do what he pleased;” 

“ How well you reason ! ” said Porthos, with admiration. 

Why, yes, not badly,” said D’Artagnan. “ And then, do 
you see, if they do not try us or cut off our heads, they must 
either keep us here or send us somewhere else.” 

Yes, that is absolutely necessary,” said Porthos. 

‘‘ Well, then, it is impossible that Master Aramis, that acute 
bloodhound, and Athos, that wise gentleman, should not dis- 
cover our retreat. Then, in sooth, it will be time enough.” 

Yes ; and the more so as one is not absolutely badly off 
here — with one exception, however.” 

And what is that ? ” 

Have you remarked, D’Artagnan, that they have given us 
baked mutton three days running ? ” 

‘‘No ; but if they should bring it on a fourth time, depend 
upon it I will complain.” 

“ And, besides, 1 sometimes miss my home. It is a long 
time since I have visited my chateaux.”- 

“ Bah ! forget them for the present. We shall find them 
again ; unless M. Mazarin has razed them to the ground.” 

“ Do you think that he can have been guilty of such 
tyranny ? ” demanded Porthos, with some anxiety. 

“No ; such things were all very well for the other Cardinal. 
This one is too small to risk such things.” 

“You make me more easy, D’Artagnan.” 

“ Well, then, put a good face on the matter, as I do. Let 
us joke with our guards ; let us interest our soldiers, as we 
cannot bribe them ; wheedle them a little more than you do, 
Porthos, when they come under our windows. So far you 
have done nothing but hold up your fist at them ; and the 
more respectable your fist is, Porthos, the less attractive it 
is. Ah ! I would give a good deal only to have five hundred 
louis ! ” 

“ And I also,” said Porthos, who did not wish to be behind 
D’Artagnan in generosity ; “ I would give — a hundred 

pistoles.” 

The two prisoners had reached this part of their conversa- 
tion when Comminges entered, preceded by a sergeant and 
two men, who carried the supper on a tray filled with plates 
and dishes. 


738 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER, 


CHAPTER LXXXVIII. 

MIND AND ARM. {Continuation?) 

GtOOD ! ” exclaimèd Porthos. Mutton again ! ” 

My dear Monsieur de Comminges,” said D’Artagnan, yon 
must know that my friend M. du Vallon is resolved to pro- 
ceed to the very greatest extremities, if M. Mazarin persists in 
feeding him on that kind of meat.” 

I declare even,” said Porthos, that I will eat of nothing 
else, if that be not carried away.” 

Take away the mutton,” said Comminges ; I wish M. du 
Vallon to sup agreeably, more especially as I have a piece of 
news for him which I am sure will improve his appetite.” 

“ Is M. de Mazarin dead ? ” inquired Porthos. 

No ; I regret to inform you that he is remarkably well.” 

So much the worse,” growled Porthos. 

‘‘And what is this news ? ” asked D’Artagnan. “News is 
such a rare fruit in prison that I hope you will excuse my 
impatience. Monsieur de Comminges ? The more so as you 
have told us that the news is good.” 

“Would you be pleased to hear that M. le Comte de la Père 
is in good health ? ” replied Comminges. 

H’Artagnan’s small eyes opened their widest. 

“ Should I be pleased ! ” he exclaimed. “ I should be more 
than pleased — it would make me quite happy.” 

“ Well, then, I am commissioned by him to present you his 
compliments, and to tell you that he is in good health.” 

D’Artagnan nearly jumped for joy. One rapid glance at 
Porthos explained his thoughts. “ If Athos knows where we 
are,” said this glance, “ if he sends us a message, he will 
shortly begin to act.” 

Porthos was not very skilful in understanding glances ; but 
this time, as he had felt the same impression on hearing 
Athos’s name, he comprehended. 

“ But,” timidly inquired the Gascon, “ you say that the 
Comte de la Fere commissioned you to give us his compli- 
ments?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ So you have seen him ? ” 

“Certainly.” 


MIND AND ARM. 


789 


Where, if it be not impertinent ? ” 

^‘Very near here! ” replied Comininges, smiling. 

^Wery near here?” exclaimed D’Artagnan, his eyes spark- 
ling with delight. 

‘‘ So near that if the windows facing the orangery were not 
blocked up, you might see him from where you stand.” 

“ He is prowling about near the chateau,” thought D’Arta- 
gnan. Then he said aloud, “ You met him while hunting in 
the park, perhaps ? ” 

No, nearer — nearer still. Observe, behind this wall,” 
said Comminges, striking against the wall. 

Behind that wall ! What is there, then, behind this wall ? 
I was brought here at night ; the devil take me, therefore, if I 
knoAV Avhere T am ! ” 

Well,” said Comminges, suppose one thing.” 

I Avill suppose anything you like.” 

Suppose that there was a window in this wall.” 

Well.” 

Well, then, from this Avindow you might see M. de la Fère 
at his.” 

So then M. de la Fère is lodged at the château ? ” 

Yes.” 

In what character ? ” 

In the same character as yourself.” 

Is Athos a prisoner ? ” 

“ You know very well,” said Comminges, smiling, that there 
are no prisoners at Bueil, since there is no prison.” 

“ Let us not pl^ on words, sir. Has Athos been arrested ? ” 

Yesterday evening, at St. Germain, on leaving the Queen.” 

D’Artagnan’s arms fell powerless by his sides. He looked 
thunderstruck. The pallor flitted like a white cloud over his 
embrowned countenance, but disappeared almost immediately. 

A prisoner ! ” he repeated. 

A prisoner ! ” repeated Porthos, equally cast down. 

Suddenly D’Artagnan raised his head, and a gleam of light 
shot from his eyes imperceptible even to Porthos. Then the 
same depression that had preceded it folloAved this fugitive 
gleam. 

Come, come,” said Comminges, who had a real feeling of 
affection for HWrtagnan since the signal service that he had 
rendered him on the day of BroiissePs arrest by rescuing him 
from the hands of the Paiisians, — “come, do not despond 


740 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


I did not expect to bring you melancholy intelligence — far 
from it. In consequence of this war we are all uncertain 
creatures. So be glad at the chance that thus brings you and 
your friend so near to each other, instead of lamenting it.’’ 

But this encouragement had no effect upon D’Artagnan, who 
still retained his lugubrious air. 

^‘And how does he bear it?” asked Porthos, who, seeing 
that D’Artagnan allowed the conversation to drop, took advan- 
tage of it to slip in a word. 

“Very well, indeed,” replied Comminges. “At first, like 
yourselves, he appeared very desponding ; but when he learnt that 
the Cardinal meant to pay him a visit this very evening ” — 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed D’Artagnan, “ the Cardinal is going to 
pay the Comte de la Père a visit ? ” 

“Yes, he sent him word that he would; and the Comte de 
la Père, when he heard it, charged me to tell you that he 
would take advantage of this favour of the Cardinal’s to plead 
your cause and his own.” 

“ Ah, dear Count ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

“ A fine thing, indeed ! ” growled out Porthos — “a great 
favour, pardieu ! The Comte de la Père, whose family is 
connected with the Montmorencies and the Rohans, is certainly 
equal to M. Mazarin.” 

“ Never mind, my dear Du Vallon,” said D’Artagnan, in his 
most innocent manner ; “ when you think it over, ’t is a great 
honour to the Comte de la Père, and more especially as it 
excites great hopes. A visit ! In my opinion, the honour is 
so great for a prisoner that I think M. Comminges must be 
mistaken ! ” 

“ What ! I mistaken ? ” 

“ It cannot be that M. Mazarin will go and visit M. de la 
Père, but M. de la Père will be sent for to M. Mazarin.” 

“No, no, no!” said Comminges, who persisted in establish- 
ing his facts in all their exactitude ; “ I perfectly understood 
the Cardinal. He is going to visit the Comte de la Père.” 

D’Artagnan tried to catch Porthos’s eye, to discover whether 
he understood the importance of this visit, but Porthos did not 
even look at him. 

“ So it is the Cardinal’s custom to walk in the orangery, is 
it ? ” asked D’Artagnan. 

“ He shuts himself up there every evening,” said Com- 
minges. “ It seems that he meditates there on State affairs.” 


MIND AND ARM. 


741 


“ Then/’ said D’Artagnan, “ I begin to believe that M. de 
la Fère will receive a visit from his Eminence. But of course 
he will be attended by some one ? ” 

Yes, by two soldiers.” 

And will he talk of business before two strangers ? ” 

The soldiers are Swiss, from the little cantons, and speak 
nothing but German. Besides, in all probability they will 
wait at the door.” 

D’Artagnan dug his nails into the palms of his hands, to 
prevent his face from betraying any other expression than 
what he wished to express. 

M. Mazarin must take care not to enter the Comte de la 
Eère’s apartment alone,” said D’Artagnan, “ for the Count 
must be quite furious.” 

Comminges began to laugh. 

Ah ça ! Beally one would imagine you were anthropophagi ! 
M. de la Fère is courteous, he is unarmed; and besides, at 
the first cry that his Eminence uttered, the two soldiers who 
always accompany him would rush in.” 

Two soldiers ? ” said D’Artagnan, pretending to ponder. 
“ Ah, yes, two soldiers ; that is the reason, then, why I hear 
them call two men every evening, and that I sometimes see 
them walking back and forth, for half an hour, under our 
window.” 

Exactly so ; they are waiting for the Cardinal, or Bernouin 
rather, who comes to call them when the Cardinal issues forth.” 

“ Fine men, i’ faith ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

Yes ; it is the regiment that was at Lens, and which M. 
le Prince has given the Cardinal to do him honour.” 

“ Ah, sir,” said D’Artagnan, as if to sum up this long con- 
versation in one word, if only his Eminence would be soft- 
ened and grant M. de la Fère our liberty Î ” 

I hope so with all my heart,” said Comminges. 

‘‘ Therefore, if he should forget to pay this visit, you would 
see no impropriety in reminding him of it ? ” 

None whatever ; quite the contrary.” 

“ Well, that makes me feel easier.” 

This skilful change of the conversation would have ap- 
peared a sublime manoeuvre to any one who could have read 
the Gascon’s soul. 

Now,” said he, a last favour, my dear Monsieur de Com- 
minges, I beg of you ? ” 


742 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


I am entirely at your disposal, sir.” 

Shall you see M. de la Fère again ? ” 

To-morrow morning.” 

Will you wish him good morning for us, and ask him to 
solicit the same favour for me as he will have received him- 
self ? ” 

Do you wish the Cardinal to come here ? ” 

^‘No ; I know myself better, and am not so presumptuous. 
If his Eminence will only do me the honour to give me an 
audience, it is all that I require.” 

Oh ! ” murmured Porthos, ‘‘ I never could have believed 
it of him ! How misfortune debases a man ! ” 

That shall be done,” said Comminges. 

Assure the Count, also, that I am very well — that you 
saw me sad, but resigned.” 

You give me great pleasure, sir, in hearing this.” 

“ You will also say the same thing for M. du Vallon.” 

For me ? No ! ” roared Porthos ; I am not resigned at 
all ! ” 

“ But you will become resigned, my friend.” 

“ Never ! ” 

‘^He will become resigned. Monsieur de Comminges. I know 
him better than he knows himself ; and I know a thousand 
good qualities in him that he himself does not even suspect. 
Be silent, my dear Du Vallon, and be resigned.” 

Adieu, gentlemen,” said Comminges. Goodnight.” 

“ We will endeavour to pass one,” said D’Artagnan. 

Comminges bowed and left the room. D’Artagnan fol- 
lowed him, with his eyes in the same humble position, and 
with the same expression of resignation in his countenance. 
But scarcely was the door shut on the captain of the Guards, 
than, starting at Porthos, he hugged him in his arms with an 
expression of joy that could not be misunderstood. 

Oho ! ” cried Porthos, what is the matter now ? — have 
you gone crazy ?” 

The matter is that we are saved ! ” 

I do not see the slightest signs of that,” replied Porthos ; 
“ on the contrary, I see that we are all taken except A raniis,’ 
and that our chances of escape are diminished, since one more 
has got into M. Mazarin’s mouse-trap.” 

“Not at all, Porthos, my friend. This mouse-trap, which 
was strong enough for two, will be found too weak for three.” 


ARM AND MTND. 


743 


I do not understand at all,” said Porthos. 

Never mind,” said D’Artagnan ; let ns take our places at 
table and get some strength ; we shall want it to-night.” 

‘‘ What are we going to do to-night ? ” demanded Porthos, 
more and more puzzled. 

We shall probably take a journey.” 

But ” — 

Sit down, my dear friend; while I am eating ideas come 
to me. After supper, when my ideas have reached their cli- 
max, I will let you know what they are ! ” 

However anxious Porthos might have been to be made 
acquainted with D’Artagnau’s project, as he knew his friend’s 
manner of acting he sat down at table without further ado, 
and ate with an appetite that did honour to the confidence 
inspired in him by D’Artagnan’s imagination. 


CHAPTER LXXXIX. 

ARM AND MIND. 

The supper was silent, but not melancholy ; for from time 
to time over D’Artagnan flitted one of those sly smiles char- 
acteristic of him in moments of good-humour. Porthos did 
not lose one of these smiles, and at each of them uttered some 
exclamation which indicated to his friend that, although he 
did not understand, he had not lost sight of the idea that was 
fermenting in his mind. 

At dessert D’Artagnan threw himself ba(;k in his chair, 
crossed one leg over the other, and dandled it, with an air of 
perfect self-satisfaction. 

Porthos put his elbows on the table, rested his chin on both 
his hands, and looked at D’Artagnan with an air of confidence 
that gave to the colossus an admirable expression of most per- 
fect good-humour. 

Well ? ” said D’Artagnan, after a moment’s silence. 

Well ? ” repeated Porthos. 

You were saying, then, my dear friend ” — 

I ? T did not say anything.” 

Yes, you did; you said that you desire to leave this place.” 

Ah ! yes^ the desire is not lacking.” 


744 


TWENTY YEARS AETER. 


“ And you were also saying that to get out it was only 
necessary to break open a door or a wall.” 

“Yes, I said so ; and I say so again.” . 

“ And I replied that it was a bad method, and that we should 
not take a hundred steps without being caught and knocked 
on the head ; unless we had clothes to disguise us and arms 
with which to defend ourselves.” 

“ It is true ; we should want clothes and arms.” 

“ Well, then,” said D’Artagnan, rising, “ we have got them, 
friend Porthos, and something better into the bargain ! ” 

“ Bah ! ” said Porthos, looking round him. 

“ Do not look round you ; it is perfectly useless ; everything 
will come to you when you want it. About what time was it 
we saw the Swiss Guards walking up and down yesterday ? ” 

“An hour after the evening had closed in, I think,” replied 
Porthos. 

“ If they come out to-day as they did yesterday, we shall 
not have above a quarter of an hour to wait for the pleasure of 
their appearance.” 

“ Only a quarter at the most.” 

“ Your arm is still pretty good, is it not, Porlhos ? ” 

Porthos unbuttoned his shirt sleeve, pulled it up, and looked 
with complacency at his brawny arm, which was as stout as an 
ordinary man’s thigh. 

“ Why, yes,” said he, “ pretty good.” 

“ So that, without putting yourself to much inconvenience, 
you could make a hoop of these tongs and a screw of this 
shovel ? ” 

“ Certainly,” replied Porthos. 

“ Let us see,” said D’Artagnan. 

The giant took the two articles referred to, and performed 
the desired metamorphoses with the greatest facility, and with- 
out any apparent effort. 

“ There ! ” said he. 

“Magnificent!” said D’Artagnan. “Verily, Porthos, you 
are gifted.” 

“ I have heard,” said Porthos, “ of a certain Milo of Crotona, 
who performed some extraordinary actions, such as tying a 
cord around his forehead and breaking it, killing an ox with a 
blow of his fist and carrying it home on his shoulders, or 
stopping a horse by his hind legs, etc., etc. I had all these 
acts of prowess recounted to me at Pierrefonds, and I did all 


ARM AND MIND. 


745 


that he did, except breaking a cord by the swelling of my 
temples/’ 

That is because your strength does not lie in your head, 
\ Forthos,” said D’Artagnan. 

[ “No, it is in my arms and my shoulders,” responded Porthos, 
• with simplicity. 

“ Well, then, my friend, go up to that window and use your 
I strength to unfasten a bar. Wait till I put out the lamp.” 


CHAPTER XC. 

ARM AND MIND. {Continuation^ 

Porthos went to the window, took hold of a bar with both 
, his hands, clutched it, drew it toward him and made it bend 
like a bow — so much so that the two ends came out of the 
notches in the stone into which they had been cemented for 
I thirty years. 

, “ There, now, my friend, that is what the Cardinal could 

never have done, man of genius as he is.” 

‘ “ Need I take out any more ? ” asked Porthos. 

“ No, that will be sufficient for us ; a man can pass through 
now.” 

^ Porthos made the trial, and could get his whole body out. 

“ Yes,” said he. 

“ In fact, it is a mighty pretty opening. Now pass your arm 
through.” 

“ Through where ? ” 

“ Through that opening.” 

“ What for ? ” 

“ You will soon know. Meanwhile, put it through.” 
Porthos obeyed, docile as a soldier, and passed his arm 
through the bars. 

“ Excellent ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

“ It appears that all goes well.” 

“ On wheels, my dear friend.” 

Good ! Now what must I do ? ” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ Why ! Is it done ? ” 


746 


TWENTY YEARS APTER. 


“ I should like to understand, however,’’ said Porthos. 

“ Listen, then, my dear friend, and in two words you will be 
quite mi fait. The door of the guard-room is opening, as you 
see.” 

“ Yes, I see.” 

They are going to send into our court the two soldiers 
who are to attend M. Mazarin, who will cross it to go into 
the orangery.” 

There, they are now coming out.” 

If they would only shut the guard-room door ! Good ! 
They are shutting it.” 

‘‘ What next ? ” 

Silence ! They might hear us.” 

So then I am to know nothing ? ” 

Yes; for as you execute you will understand.” 

And yet I should have preferred ” — 

You will have the pleasure of a surprise.” 

“ Ah, that is true ! ” said Porthos. 

Hush ! ” 

Porthos remained mute and motionless. 

In fact, the two soldiers came toward the window, rubbing 
their hands ; for it was, as we have said, the month of Febru- 
ary and very cold. 

At this moment the guard-room door opened and one of the 
soldiers was called back. The soldier left his comrade and re- 
entered the guard-room. 

Is that all right ? ” inquired Porthos. 

Better than ever,” replied D’Artagnan. Now listen : I 
am going to call that soldier, and to talk with him, as I did 
with one of his comrades yesterday. Do you remember ? ” 

Yes ; only I did not understand one word that he said.” 

“He certainly had a rather peculiar accent. But do not 
lose one word that I say to you. Everything depends upon 
the execution, Porthos.” 

“ Good ! The execution — that is my strong point.” 

“ I know that well enough, pardieu ! So I depend on you.” 

“ Proceed.” 

“ I am going, therefore, to call that soldier and talk with 
him.” 

“ You have already told me that.” 

“ I shall turn to the left so that he may be placed on your 
right when he mounts the bench.” 


ARM AND MIND, 


747 


Blit if he should not mount it ? ” 

He will mount it ; you may depend upon that. Now, 
then, the moment he mounts the bench you will thrust forth 
your formidable arm, and will seize him by the neck. Then, 
raising him up as Tobias raised the fish by the gills, you will 
lug him into our chamber, taking special care to squeeze him 
hard enough to prevent his crying out.” 

‘‘Yes,” said Porthos; “ but if I should choke him to 
death ? ” 

“ 111 the first place, there will be but one Swiss less. But 
you will not choke him to death, I hope. You will then set 
him gently down here, and we will gag and fasten him ; it 
does not make any difference where, but somewhere. That 
will, in the first place, procure us one uniform and one 
sword.” 

“ Wonderful ! ” said Porthos, looking at his friend with the 
deepest admiration. 

“ Hein ! ” exclaimed the Gascon. 

“ But,” added Porthos, after some consideration, “ one uni- 
form and one sword are not enough for two persons.” 

“ Well, now, had he not a comrade ? ” 

“That is true,” said Porthos. 

“ So when I cough, thrust out your arm ; that will be the 
time.” 

“ Good ! ” 

The two friends each took his appointed position. Placed 
as he was, Porthos found himself entirely concealed in the 
corner of the window. 

“ Bon soir, comrade,” said D’Artagnan, in his most charming 
voice, and in his sweetest-modiilated diapason. 

“ Poll soir, monsor,” replied the soldier. 

“Is it not very warm walking up and down there?” said 
D’Artagnan. 

“ B-r-r-r-r-r-r-r ! ” said the soldier. 

“ I fancy that a glass of wine would not be disagreeable to 
you ? ” 

“ A class of vein ; it foud be fery velcome.” 

“ The fish is biting ! The fish is biting ! ” whispered D’Arta- 
gnan to Porthos. 

“ I understand,” said Porthos. 

“ I have got a bottle here,” said D’Artagnan. 

“ A pottle ! ” 


748 


TWENTY YEARS A F' 


Yes/’ 

A pottle fool ? ” 

Quite so, and it is yours if ye ; -to drink it to my 
health.” 

‘ Me vish it veil,” said the sol .wing near. 

Come, then, and take it, my fric said the Gascon. 

Fery villingly. I pelieve dat dere is a pench.” 

Oh, mon Dieu ! one would think that it was placed there 
on purpose for you. Get up on it — there, very well. That ’s 
it, my friend.” 

And D’Artagnan coughed. 

At the same moment Porthos’s arm was lowered ; his iron 
hand grasped the soldier’s neck as quick as lightning and as 
firm as a pair of pincers, raised him up, at the same time 
choking him, drew him through the opening at the risk of 
skinning him, and laid him on the floor, where D’Artagnan, 
just giving him time to take one breath, gagged him with his 
scarf, and the moment he was gagged, set about stripping him 
with the skill and rapidity of a man who had learnt his busi- 
ness on the field of battle. 

Then the soldier, bound and gagged, was carried to the 
hearth, where the two friends had before extinguished the 
fire. 

Here at any rate is a dress and one sword,” said Porthos. 

I will take them,” said D’Artagnan. If you wish to have 
another dress and another sword, we must repeat the trick. 
Attention ! I see the other soldier coming out of the guard- 
room, and in this direction.” 

think,” said Porthos, ‘‘that it would be imprudent to 
repeat the same stratagem. I have heard it said that you 
seldom succeed twice by the same.niethod ; and if I should fail, 
all would be lost. I will crawl out, and just as he passes me 
I will seize him when he is not at all suspicious, and will hand 
him to you already gagged.” 

“ That will be the best way,” said the Gascon. 

“ Keep yourself ready, then,” said Porthos, as he slipped out 
of the window. 

The thing was executed just as PorthoSkhad promised. The 
giant concealed himself on the path, and as the soldier passed 
by, he seized him by the neck, gagged him, pushed him like a 
mummy through the bars of the window, and got in after him. 

The second prisoner was stripped as the first had been. 


ARM AND MIND. 


749 


They laid him on the bed and secured him to it with straps, and 
as the bed was of massive oak and the straps were doubled, 
they were as easy about him as they were about the first. 

There,’’ said D’Artagnan, all that goes excellently well 
Now try on that rogue’s dress, Porthos. I doubt whether it 
will fit you ; but should it be too tight, never mind ; the belt 
will do, and more especially the hat with the red plumes.” 

It happened by chance that the second soldier was a gigan- 
tic Swiss ; so that, except a few stitches that cracked in the 
seams, everything proceeded in the best manner possible. 

For a short time nothing was heard but the rustling of 
the clothes as Porthos and D’Artagnan hastily dressed them- 
selves. 

It is done,” they said at the same time. ‘‘ As for you, 
comrades,” they added, addressing the two soldiers, ^^if you 
are quiet, no harm will befall you ; but if you stir, you are 
dead men ! ” 

The soldiers remained perfectly quiet. They had compre- 
hended, by Porthos’s fist, that the affair was of the most seri- 
ous description, and that there was not the slightest joke in 
the matter. 

Now,” said D’Artagnan, you would not be sorry to under- 
stand something about it, would you, Porthos ? ” 

Why, yes, it would not be a bad thing.” 

Well, then, we get down into the court.” 

“ Yes.” 

We take the place of those two jolly fellows there.” 

Very well.” 

We walk up and down.” 

Ah ! and a very good thing it will be, as it is not very 
warm.” 

In a short time the valet will call for the guard, as he did 
yesterday and the day before.” 

And we answer ? ” 

“ No, we do not answer ; quite the reverse.” 

Just as you like. I am not particular about answering.” 

We do not answer them ; we only draw our hats over our 
heads and escort his Eminence.” 

Where to ? ” 

Where he is going — to Athos’s apartment. Do you think 
that he will be sorry to see us ? ” 

Oh ! ” exclaimed Porthos ; oh ! I understand now ! ” 


750 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Wait before you cry out, Porthos ; for on my word you 
have not got to the end yet,’’ said the Gascon, in his bantering 
manner. 

, What will happen next, then ? ” said Porthos. 

Follow me,” said D’Artagnan. He who lives will see.” 

And passing through the opening, he glided lightly into the 
court. 

Porthos followed him by the same route, though with 
greater difficulty and not quite so swiftly. 

They heard the two soldiers shuddering with fear as they 
lay bound in the chamber. 

D’Artagnan and Porthos had scarcely reached the ground, 
before a door opened and the voice of the valet was heard 
calling for the guard : Le service ! ” 

At the same time the guard-room door opened and another 
voice cried out, La Bruyère and Du Barthois, march ! ” 

It seems that my name is La Bruyère,” said D’Artagnan. 

And mine Barthois,” said Porthos. 

Where are you ? ” asked the valet, whose eyes, dazzled by 
the light, could not perceive our two heroes in the darkness. 

Here we are,” replied D’Artagnan. Then, addressing 
Porthos : “ What do you say to that, M. du Vallon ? ” 

Faith, provided it lasts I say that it is very pretty ! ” 

The two impromptu soldiers marched gravely behind the 
valet-de-chauihre ; he opened for them a vestibule door; then 
another, which seemed that of a waiting-room ; and then, 
showing them two stools: 

Your orders are very simple,” said he. Allow only one 
person to enter this room — one only, do you understand ? — 
no more ; this person you must implicitly obey. As for your 
return, there can be no mistake; you will wait until I relieve 
you.” 

D’Artagnan was well known to this valet, who was none 
other than Bernouin, and who, for the last six or eight months, 
had ushered him into the Cardinal’s presence ten or a dozen 
times. He therefore contented himself with grumbling out 
Yah, with the least Gascon and the most German accent pos- 
sible. 

D’Artagnan had exacted from Porthos a promise that he 
would not speak under any circumstances. Should he be 
driven to extremities, he was permitted to bring forth, for all 
answer, the proverbial and solemn tarteijie. 


ARM AND MIND. 


751 


Bernouin left the room, closing the doors. 

‘‘ Oho ! ” said Porthos, on hearing the key grating in the 
lock, it seems that here it is the fashion to lock people^ip. 
It seems to me we have only exchanged prisons ; the only 
difference is, that instead of being prisoners up there, Ave are 
prisoners in the orangery. I do not know whether we have 
gained anything by it.” 

“ Porthos, my friend,” whispered D’Artagnan, do not dis- 
trust Providence, and let me meditate and reflect.” 

Meditate and reflect, then,” said Porthos, annoyed that 
things turned out in this manner, instead of in some other 
way. 

‘‘We have marched eighty paces,” said D’Artagnan, “and 
we have mounted six steps. Therefore, as my illustrious friend 
Du Vallon has said here, the other pavilion, called the pavilion 
of the orangery, must be parallel with our own, and the Comte 
de la Père, therefore, cannot be far off ; only the doors are 
closed.” 

“ That is a mighty difflculty ! ” said Porthos ; “ and with 
one blow of the shoulder ” — 

“ For God’s sake ! Porthos, my friend,” said D’Artagnan, 
“ regulate your feats of strength, or they will not, on proper 
occasions, have all the value they deserve. Did you not hear 
that some one was coming to us here ? ” 

“ Certainly I did.” 

“ Well, then, this some one will open the doors for us.” 

“ But, my dear,” said Porthos, “ if this some one should 
detect us, and if this some one on detecting us should call out, 
we are lost. For, after all, you do not intend, I imagine, to 
make me knock this Churchman on the head, or choke him 
to death. That kind of work is all very well against the Eng- 
lish and Germans.” 

“ Oh, God preserve me from that, and you also, Porthos ! ” 
said D’Artagnan. “ The young King would perhaps be grate- 
ful to us for it ; but the (^leen would never pardon us ; and 
she is the person who must be managed. Besides, it would be 
unnecessary bloodshed. Oh, never, never! I have got my 
plan. So let me act, and we shall have cause to laugh.” 

“ So much the better,” said Porthos, “ for I have need of it.” 

“ Hush ! ” said D’Artagnan ; “ here comes the some one we 
spoke of ! ” 

They heard the sound of a light step in the vestibule. The 


752 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


hinges of the door creaked, and in came a man dressed as a 
cavalier, covered with a brown cloak, a large hat drawn down 
over his eyes, and a lantern in his hand. 

Porthos made himself as small as possible against the wall ; 
but he could not make himself so invisible but that the man in 
the cloak saw him. He held out the lantern to him and said, 
“ Light the ceiling lamp.’’ 

Then, addressing D’Artagnan : 

“ You have received your orders ? ” said he. 

YaA,” replied the Gascon, determined to confine himself to 
that sample of the German language. 

Tedesco,^’ said ttie cavalier. Va hene.'^’ 

And going toward the door opposite that by which he had 
entered, he opened it and disappeared behind it, fastening it 
after him. 

And now,” said Porthos, “ what shall we do ? ” 

Now we will make use of your shoulder if this door should 
be fastened, friend Porthos. Everything has its proper time 
and season, and everything conies to him who can wait. But 
let ns barricade the first door in a suitable and convenient man- 
ner, and then we will follow the cavalier.” 

The two friends set to work immediately, and heaped up 
against the door all the furniture they found in the room, and 
the obstruction was more complete as the door opened inwards. 

There ! ” said D’Artagnan ; now we are sure of not be- 
ing surprised in the rear, let us go forward.” 


CHAPTER XCI. 

, M. DE MAZARIN’s OUBLIETTES. 

They went to the door through which Mazarin had disap- 
peared ; it was fastened ; D’Artagnan in vain endeavoured to 
open it. 

“ Here is a chance for your shoulder,” said D’Artagnan. 
‘^Push, my friend, but gently, without noise. Do not break 
anything; only separate the divisions a little; that’s all.” 

Porthos applied his robust shoulder to one portion of the 
folding-door, which gave way so as to enable D’Artagnan to 
introduce the point of his sword between the bolt and the 


M. DE MAZARINES OUBLIETTES. 


753 


i staple of the lock ; the bolt, being bevelled, yielded, and the 
door opened. 

Did not I tell you, friend Porthos, that all women and 
doors are to be managed by gentleness ? ” 

The fact is,” said Porthos, that you are a great moralist.” 

“ Let us go in,” said D’Artagnan. 

They went in. Behind glass windows, and by the light of 
the Cardinal’s lantern placed on the floor in the middle of the 
gallery, could be seen the orange and pomegranate trees of the 
Chateau of Bueil, set in long rows, forming a long alley with a 
smaller one on each side of it. 

‘Œo Cardinal,” said D’Artagnan, but only his lamp. Now, 
where the devil is he ? ” 

And as he examined one of the smaller aisles, having di- 
rected Porthos to examine the other, he suddenly perceived, to 
his left, an orange-tree tub removed from its position, and instead 
of the tub a wide opening. 

Ten men could scarcely have moved this tub ; but by some 
mechanical process, it turned with the slab on which it rested. 
\ D’Artagnan, as we have said, saw an opening in its place, 
' and in the opening the steps of a winding staircase. 

I He beckoned Porthos to come to him, and showed him the 
opening and the steps. 

^ The two men looked at each other with an astonished air. 

[ If we had only wanted gold,” said D’Artagnan, in a very 

I low voice, we should have gained our object, and been rich 
forever.” 

I How is that ? ” 

^^Do you not understand, Porthos, that in all probability 
there is to be found at the bottom of this staircase the Cardi- 
nal’s famous treasure of which so much is said ; and that we 
should only have to go down, empty a chest, fasten the Car- 
dinal in it with the double lock, and, after replacing this 
orange-tree, go off, taking with us as much gold as we could 
carry ; and that no one in the world could question us as to 
whence we derived our fortune — not even the Cardinal ? ” 
It would be a fine stroke for clowns,” said Porthos, but 
unworthy of gentlemen, it seems to me.” 

^‘I am of the same opinion,” replied D’Artagnan; so I 
said, ^ If we had wanted gold.’ But we want something 
else.” 

At the same moment, and while D’Artagnan was leaning 


754 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


his head over the cavern to listen, a dry metallic sound, like 
that of a bag of gold moving, struck on his ear. He started. 
Immediately a door was shut, and the first rays of a light 
appeared on the stairs. Mazarin had left his lamp in the 
orangery, to induce a belief that he was walking about ; but 
he had a wax taper with which to go down into his mys- 
terious strong box. 

“ Ah ! ” said he in Italian, while he was slowly mounting 
the steps examining a bag of reals with its rotund paunch, 
— ah ! there is the wherewithal to pay five Parliamentary 
councillors and two Parisian generals. And I, also, am a 
great captain — only I make war in my own fashion.” 

D’Artagnan and Porthos were out of sight in one of the 
side alleys, each behind an orange-tree tub, and were listen- 
ing. 

Mazarin came within three paces of D’Artagnan, to push a 
spring concealed in the wall. The slab turned, and the orange- 
tree resting on it returned to its place. 

Then the Cardinal extinguished his taper, put it into his 
pocket, and taking up his lamp again : 

Now we will go and see M. de la Père,” said he. 

Good ! That is our road,” thought D’Artagnan ; we will 
go together.” 

They all three set off, Mazarin going down the centre alley 
and D’Artagnan and Porthos down- the parallel ones. The 
two men, of course, carefully avoided those long lines of light 
thrown by the Cardinal’s lamp between the orange-tree tubs. 

Mazarin reached a second glass door without perceiving that 
he was followed, the soft sand deadening the steps of the 
two who were accompanying him. Then he turned to the left, 
and went down a corridor which Porthos and D’Artagnan had 
not observed ; but at the moment that he opened the door, he 
stopped to think. 

‘‘ Ah ! Diavolo ! ” said he. I forgot Comminges’s caution. 
I must get the soldiers and place them at the door, that I 
may not put myself at the mercy of this devil of a fellow. 
Come ! ” 

And with an impatient gesture he turned to go back again. 

Do not give yourself the trouble, monsignor,” said D’Arta- 
gnan, with one foot in advance, his hat in his hand, and a most 
gracious smile. “ We have followed your Eminence step by 
step, and here we are ! ” 



“WE HAVE FOLLOWED YOUR EMINENCE STEP BY STEP, AND HERE WE 

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M. DE MAZARIN''S OUBLIETTES. 


T55 


“ Yes, here we are ! ” said Porthos. 

And he made the same graceful form of salutation. 

Mazarin cast his terrified glances from one to the other, rec- 
ognised them both, and dropped the lantern with a groan of 
terror. 

D’Artagnan picked it up; fortunately it was not extin- 
guished by the fall. 

Oh, monsignor, what imprudence ! ’’ said D’Artagnan ; it 
is always a ^ad thing to run about without a light ; your 
Eminence might knock yourself against some box, or fall into 
some hole.” 

Monsieur d’Artagnan ! ” murmured Mazarin, who could not 
recover from his astonishment. 

“ Yes, monsignor, the same ; and I have the honour to pre- 
sent to you M. du Vallon, that excellent friend of mine, in 
whom your Eminence had the goodness to take such an 
interest formerly.” 

And D'Artagnan directed the light of the lamp upon the 
joyous visage of Porthos; who now began to understand, and 
felt very proud of his penetration. 

You were going to M. de la Eère’s room,” continued 
D’Artagnan. “ Let us not interrupt you, monsignor ; you will 
lead the way and we will follow you.” 

Mazarin gradually recovered his faculties. 

“ Have you been a long time in the orangery, gentlemen ? ” 
he asked, in a trembling voice, thinking of the visit that he 
had just made to his treasure. 

Porthos opened his mouth to reply, but D’Artagnan made 
him a sign, and Porthos became mute, and his mouth grad- 
ually closed again. 

We are this moment arrived, monsignor,” said D’Artagnan. 

Mazarin breathed again. He had no further fears about 
his treasure : he only feared for himself. A kind of smile 
passed across his lips. 

‘‘ Come,” said he, you have caught me in a trap, gentle- 
men, and I confess myself vanquished. You want to reclaim 
your liberty, do you not ? I grant it you.” 

“ Oh, monsignor, you are exceedingly good ; but as for our 
liberty, we have it already, and we should prefer asking you 
for something else.” 

“ You have got your liberty ! ” said Mazarin, quite as- 
tounded, 


T56 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Certainly ; and, on the other hand, you, monsignor, have 
lost yours. What would you have, monsignor ? It is the 
fortune of war. You must purchase it.^’ 

Mazarin shuddered to the very bottom of his heart. His 
piercing eye was in vain fixed upon the Gascon’s mocking 
eyes, and on Porthos’s imperturbable face. Both were 
shrouded in darkness, and the sibyl of Cumæ herself could 
not have read them. 

Purchase my liberty ! ” repeated Mazarin. ^ 

Yes, monsignor.” 

‘‘ And how much will it cost me, M. d’Artagnan ? ” 

Forsooth, your Excellence, I do not know as yet. We 
will ask the Comte de la Fère, if your Eminence will allow us. 
Will your Eminence therefore deign to open the door that 
leads to his apartment, and it will be settled in ten minutes.” 

Mazarin trembled. 

Monsignor,” said D’Artagnan, your Eminence perceives 
how ceremonious we are ; but yet we are obliged to tell you 
that we have no time to lose. Open, therefore, monsignor, if 
you please ; and remember, once for all, that the least move- 
ment that you make to fly, or the least cry that you utter with a 
view to escape, our position being altogether peculiar, you must 
not be angry with us if we should be driven to extremities.” 

Be perfectly easy, gentlemen,” replied Mazarin ; I shall 
make no attempt whatever, I give you my word of honour.” 

D’Artagnan made Porthos a sign to redouble his vigilance. 
Then addressing Mazarin : 

How, monsignor, let us go in if you please.” 


CHAPTER XCII. 

CONFERENCES. 

Mazarin unlocked a double door, on the threshold of which 
stood Athos, ready to receive his illustrious visitor, according 
to the information given him by Comminges. 

On. seeing Mazarin he bowed. 

Your Eminence may dispense with your attendants,” said 
he ; the honour I receive is too great to be forgotten by me.” 

And that is the reason, my dear Count,” said D’Artagnan, 


CONFERENCES. 


757 


that his Eminence did not absolutely wish for us. But Du 
Vallon and myself insisted upon it (although, perhaps, in an 
unwelcome way), so great a desire had we to see you.” 

At that voice, at that tone of raillery, at that well-known 
gesture accompanying the tone and voice, Athos started with 
surprise. 

“ D’Artagnan ! Porthos ! ” he exclaimed. 

In person, my dear friend.” 

In person,” repeated Porthos. 

What does all this mean ? ” asked the Count. 

^‘It means,” said Mazarin, trying to smile as he had done 
before, and biting his lips while he smiled, — it means that 
our characters are changed, and that, instead of these gentle- 
men being my prisoners, I am the prisoner of these gentlemen ; 
so much so that you see me obliged to receive the law, instead 
of giving it. But, gentlemen, I warn you that unless you cut 
my throat, your victory will be of short duration. I shall 
have my turn ; they will come ” — 

Ah ! monsignor,” said D’Artagnan, do not threaten ; the 
example is bad. We are so gentle and so affable with your 
Eminence ! Come, let us lay aside all ill-humor ; let us remove 
all rancour and talk calmly.” 

I ask for nothing more, gentlemen,” replied Mazarin. 
But even while we are discussing my ransom, I do not wish 
you to consider your position as better than it is. In taking 
me in a snare, you have caught yourselves along with me. 
How will you get out of this place ? Look at the gates — 
look at the doors ; see, or rather guess, the number of sentinels 
who keep guard behind these gates and doors, the soldiers that 
actually cumber these courts, and let us come to some agree- 
ment. Now, mark : I will show you that I am sincere.” 

Good ! ” thought D’Artagnan. We must take care : he is 
going to play us some trick.” 

I offered you your liberty,” continued the Minister : I 
offer it you again. Do you wish for it ? Before an hour you 
will be discovered, arrested, obliged to kill me ; and that 
would be a horrible crime, and totally unworthy of such trusty 
gentlemen as you are.” 

He is right,” thought Athos. 

And like every act of reasoning that took place in that soul, 
from which nothing but noble thoughts could emanate, his 
thought was reflected in his eyes. 


758 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Therefore/^ said D’Artagnan, to temper the hope which 
Athos’s tacit adhesion had given Mazarin, let us not resort 
to violence, except at the last extremity.’^ 

If, on the other hand,” continued Mazarin, you allow me 
to go, on accepting your liberty ” — 

What ! ” interrupted D’ Artagnan ; do you wish us to accept 
our liberty, since you can take it from us, as you say yourself, 
in five minutes after you have given it to us ? And,” con- 
tinued D’Artagnan, I know you well enough, mon signor, to 
be sure that you would take it from us.” 

“ No, by the faith of a cardinal — do you not believe me ? ” 
Monsignor, I do not believe cardinals who are not 
priests.” 

“ Well, then, by my faith as a minister! ” 

You are so no longer, monsignor : you are a prisoner.” 

“ Then, by the faith of Mazarin ! I am and always shall be 
Mazarin, I hope.” 

“ Hum ! ” said D’Artagnan. I have heard of a Mazarin 
who had but little respect for his oaths, and I fear that it 
must have been one of your Eminence’s ancestors.” 

“ Monsieur d’ Artagnan,” said Mazarin, you have much wit, 
and I am exceedingly sorry to be at odds with you.” 

“ Monsignor, let us make it up ; I wish for nothing better.” 

^‘Well, then,” said Mazarin, ^^if I place you in security, in a 
plain and palpable manner ” — 

Ah ! that is another thing,” said Porthos. 

Let us see,” said Athos and D’Artagnan. 

In the first place, will you accept it ? ” asked the Cardi- 
nal. 

^‘Explain your plan, monsignor, and we will see.” 

Eemember that you are shut up, caught.” 

You know very well, monsignor,” said D’Artagnan, ‘‘that 
there is a last resource.” 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ Of dying together.” 

Mazarin shuddered. 

“ Listen,” said he. “ At the end of the corridor there is a 
door, of which I have the key ; that door leads into the park. 
Take this key and go. You are quick, you are vigorous, you 
are armed. At the end of a hundred paces, turning to the 
left, you will come upon the park wall ; you will climb over it, 
and, in three steps, you will be in the road and free. And I 


CONFERENCES. 


759 


now know you well enough to be certain that should you be 
attacked it will be no obstacle in your way.” 

Ah, pardieu ! monsignor,” said D’Artagnan, this is some- 
thing like ! You speak to the purpose. Where is this key 
that you would offer us ? ” 

! ‘‘Here it is.” 

“ Ah, monsignor, will you yourself conduct us to that 
Î door ? ” 

; “ Very willingly,” replied the Minister, “ if you need it to 

make your minds easy.” 

Mazarin, who did not expect to get off so cheaply, went 
to the corridor, radiant with joy, and opened the door. 

It gave into the park, as the three fugitives perceived by 
the night air that rushed into the corridor and blew the snow 
into their faces. 

“ Diable ! Diable ! ” said D’Artagnan, “it is a horrible night, 
5 monsignor. We know nothing of the localities, and shall 
i never find our way. Since your Eminence has condescended 
( so much as to come thus far, come with us a few steps farther, 

I monsignor, and conduct us to the wall.” 

“ So be it,” said the Cardinal. 

And making a straight cut, he walked rapidly toward the 
wall, at the foot of which they all four arrived in a very short 
time. 

“ Are you satisfied, gentlemen ? ” demanded Mazarin. 

“ I should think so, indeed, or we should be very difficult to 
please. Peste! what an honour ! Three poor gentlemen escorted 
by a prince of the Church ! Ah, by the way, monsignor, you 
said just now that we were brave, active, and armed ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ You are mistaken ; only M. du Vallon and myself are 
armed; M. le Comte is not so; and if we should meet any 
patrol, we ought to be able to defend ourselves.” 

“ It is very true.” 

“ But where shall we find a sword ? ” demanded Porthos. 

“ Monsignor,” said D’Artagnan, “ will lend the Count his 
own, which is useless to him.” 

“ Very willingly,” said the Cardinal ; “ I shall even beg 
Monsieur le Comte to keep it as a memorial of me.” 

“ Well, indeed, that is gallant. Count ! ” said D’Artagnan. 

“ Therefore,” replied Athos, “ I promise monsignor never to 
part with it.” 


760 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


^^Very well,” said D’Artagnan; ^<an exchange of tokens; 
how truly affecting ! Porthos, have you not tears in your 
eyes ? ” 

Yes,” replied Porthos ; but I do not know whether it is 
from that, or whether it is the wind that makes me cry. I 
fancy it is the wind.” 

^•‘Now up with you, Athos,” said D’Artagnan, ‘^and be 
quick.” 

Athos, aided by Porthos, who raised him like a feather, 
reached the top of the wall. 

Now jump, Athos.” 

Athos jumped, and disappeared on the other side of the 
wall. 

Are you landed ? ” asked D’Artagnan. 

Yes.” 

Without accident ? ” 

Perfectly safe and sound.” 

Porthos, watch the Cardinal while I get up. No, I do not 
require you; I can climb very well alone. Keep a good watch 
over the Cardinal ; that is all.” 

am keeping a good lookout,” said Porthos. ‘^Well, 
now ” — 

“ You are right ; it is more difficult than I imagined. Lend 
me your back, but without leaving hold of the Cardinal.” 

“ I do not leave my hold of him.” 

Porthos gave his back to D’Artagnan, who in an instant, 
thanks to that support, was seated astride on the crown of the 
wall. 

Mazarin pretended to laugh. 

Are you there ? ” asked Porthos. 

Yes, my friend. And now ” — 

What next ? ” 

Now hand me up Monsieur le Cardinal, and at the slightest 
cry that he utters, choke him.” 

Mazarin wished to call out, but Porthos squeezed him with 
both his hands, and raised him within reach of D’Artagnan, 
who, in his turn, seized him by the collar and seated him close 
to himself. Then, in a menacing tone : 

Sir,” said he, jump down directly to M. de la Père, or I 
will kill you, on the faith of a gentleman ! ” 

Mon sou ! monsou ! ” cried Mazarin, you do not keep your 
promise.” 


CONFERENCES. 


761 


I ? When did I promise you anything, monsignor ? 

Mazarin groaned. You are free through me, sir ; your 
liberty is my ransom.’^ 

“ Agreed. But the ransom of that enormous treasure buried 
in the gallery, to go down to which you must push a spring 
concealed in the wall, which makes a box turn, by which a 
staircase is discovered, — say, must we not talk a little about 
that, monsignor ? 

^^Jesoiis!^’ said Mazarin, almost inarticulate and clasping 
his hands, ^^Jesous^ mon Diou! I am a lost man ! 

But without being hindered by his lamentations, D’Artagnan 
took him underneath his arms, and let him gently glide into 
the arms of Athos, who had remained motionless at the bottom 
of the wall. 

Then tiirning to Porthos : 

“ Take- my hand,” said D’Artagnan ; I will cling to the 
wall.” 

Porthos made an effort that shook the wall, and reached the 
top. I did, not quite understand it all,” said he, but now I 
do ; it is very droll.” 

Do you think so ? ” said D’Artagnan ; so much the better. 
But that it may be droll to the end, let us lose no time.” And 
he jumped off the wall. 

Porthos did the same. 

Accompany Monsieur le Cardinal,” said D’Artagnan ; I 
must explore the ground.” 

The Gascon drew his sword and marched as an advanced 
guard. 

Monsignor,” said he, which way must we turn to gain 
the highway ? Eeflect well before you answer ; for if your 
Excellence should be mistaken, it might produce serious in- 
convenience, not only to ourselves, but to you.” 

Go along the wall, sir,” replied Mazarin, and you run no 
risk of being lost.” 

The three friends doubled their pace ; but in a short time 
they were compelled to moderate it, as the Cardinal, although 
he did his best, could not keep up with them. 

Suddenly D’Artagnan ran against something warm that 
moved. 

Hold ! A horse ! ” cried he ; I have just found a horse, 
gentlemen.” 

And so have I,” said Athos. 


762 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


And so have I/’ repeated Porthos, who, faithful to his 
orders, still held the Cardinal by the arm. 

“ This is what I call luck, monsignor,*’ said D’Artagnan, 
‘‘ and just at the very moment, too, that your Excellence was 
complaining of being obliged to go on foot ” — 

But at the moment that he was uttering these words, the 
barrel of a pistol was levelled at his breast, and he heard this 
warning pronounced with the greatest gravity : 

Do not touch them ! ” 

Grimaud ! ” he exclaimed. Grimaud ! What are j^ou 
doing here ? Are you sent from heaven ? 

‘‘ ISTo, sir,” replied the honest servant ; M. Aramis told me 
to guard the horses.” 

Is Aramis here, then ? ” 

Yes, sir, and since yesterday.” 

And what are you doing ? ” 

We are watching.” 

What, is Aramis here ? ” repeated Athos. 

At the little door of the chateau ; that was his post.” 

Are there many of you ? ” 

‘‘ There are sixty of us.” 

Go and apprise them.” 

^^This instant, sir.” 

And thinking that no one could perform the commission 
better than himself, Grimaud set off as hard as he could run ; 
while, overjoyed at being reunited, the three friends waited for 
him. 

M. Mazarin was the only one in the group who was in a bad 
humour. 


CHAPTER XCIII. 

WHEREIN IT BEGINS TO BE CREDIBLE THAT PORTHOS MAY AT 
LAST BECOME A BARON AND d’ARTAGNAN A CAPTAIN. 

At the end of ten minutes Aramis arrived, accompanied by 
Grimaud and eight or ten gentlemen. He was radiant with 
delight, and threw himself on the necks of his friends. 

“ So you are free, my brothers, — free without my assist- 
ance ? I shall therefore have nothing to do for you, after all 
my efforts.” 


POSSIBILITIES FOB POHTllOS ANP D\ARTAaNAN.. 


Do not be unhappy about that, my deai lii ; . Vv '.iat ib 
only deferred is not lost. If you have hot beeii .b h îo do 
any, you will ver^ soon have the chance.’’ 

And yet I had taken my measures well,” said Aramis. 

I obtained sixty men from the coadjutor; twenty guard the 
park walls, twenty the road from E,ueil to Saint Germain, and 
twent}^ are scattered about the wood. I have, thanks to these 
strategic measures, intercepted two couriers from Mazarin to 
the Queen.” 

Mazarin pricked up his ears. 

But, ” said D’Artagnan, I hope that you honourably sent 
them back to the Cardinal ? ” 

“ Ah ! yes, indeed ! Most likely I should take pride in 
showing him such delicacy ! In one of his despatches the 
Cardinal assures the Queen that the coffers are empty, and 
that her Majesty has no more money. In the other he an- 
nounces that he is going to transport his prisoners to Melun, 
as E-ueil did not appear to him to be sufficiently secure. You 
understand, my dear friend, that this last letter gave me great 
hopes. I lay in ambush with my sixty men, I surrounded the 
chateau, I prepared some saddle horses, which I put under the 
care of the intelligent Grimaud, and waited for your coming 
out. I did not much expect you before to-morrow morning, 
and had no hopes of delivering you without a skirmish. You 
are free this evening^ — free without a struggle ; so much the 
better. But how did you escape from that rascal Mazarin ? 
You must have had much to complain of him?” 

Not a great deal,” replied D’Artagnan. 

Really ! ” 

Nay, I will say more: we have even had cause to praise 
him.” 

Impossible ! ” 

Yes, really and truly ; thanks to him we are free.” 

Thanks to him ? ” 

Yes ; he made M. Bernouin, his valet-de-chamhre, conduct 
us into the orangery ; then, from there, we followed him to 
the Comte de la Fère’s room ; then he offered to grant us our 
liberty ; we accepted it ; and he even pushed his complaisance 
and politeness so far as to show us the way, and to conduct us 
to the park wall, which we had just most happily escaladed 
when we met with Grimaud.” 

‘‘ Ah ! well now^ this will quite reconcile me to him,” said 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


^iramis ; “ and I wisli he were here that I might tell him that 
I did not consider him capable of such a noble action/’ 

“ Monsignor/’ said D’Artagnan, unable to restrain himself 
any longer, allow me to introduce to you the (Ihevalier 
d’Herblay, who wishes, as you may have heard, to offer his 
most respectful congratulations to your Eminence.” 

And he stepped on one side, thereby displaying the confused 
Cardinal to Aramis’s wondering eyes. 

‘‘ Oho !” he cried, the Cardinal ! What a glorious prize ! 
Holà, holà, my friends ! The horses — the horses ! ” 

Some horsemen rode up. 

“Pardieu!” said Aramis, “then I shall still have been of 
some use. Mdnsignor, will your Eminence deign to receive 
my most profound homage ? I would wager that it is our St. 
Christopher of a Porthos who made this additional stroke ! 
By the way, I was forgetting ” — 

And he gave an order to a horseman, in a low voice. 

“ I think it would be prudent to start,” said D’Artagnan. 

“Yes, but I am waiting for some one — a friend of 
Athos’s.” 

“ A friend ? ” said the Count. 

“ And see there he comes galloping through the bushes.” 

“ Monsieur le Comte ! Monsieur le Comte ! ” cried a youthful 
voice that made Athos tremble. 

“ Raoul ! Raoul ! ” he exclaimed. 

For an instant the young man forgot his habitual respect ; 
he threw himself on his father’s neck. 

“Behold, Monsieur le Cardinal! would it not have been a 
pity to separate men who love one another as much as we do ? 
Gentlemen,” continued Aramis, addressing the horsemen, who 
every moment became more numerous, — “ gentlemen, surround 
his Eminence to do him honour ; he much wishes to grant us 
the favour of his company, and you will, I hope, be sufficiently 
grateful for it. Porthos, do not lose sight of his Eminence.” 

And Aramis went to D’Artagnan and Athos, who were con- 
sulting, and joined in the consultation. 

“ Come,” said D’Artagnan, after a conference of a few 
minutes, “let us proceed.” 

“ And where are we going ? ” asked Porthos. 

“To your house, my dear friend, — to Pierrefonds. Your 
beautiful chateau is worthy of offering its lordly hospitality 
to his Eminence ; and it is, moreover, excellently situated — 


POSSIBILITIES FOR PORTHOS AND D'^ARTAGNAN. 765 


neither too near Paris, nor too far from it. We can, from 
there, easily establish a communication with the capital. 
Come, monsignor, you will there be entertained like a prince, 
as you are.” ‘ 

“ A fallen prince,” said Mazarin, in a most dolorous voice. 

“ The chance of war, monsignor,” replied Athos ; but rest 
assured that we will not abuse it.” 

“No ; but we will use it,” said D’Artagnan. 

All the rest of the night the captors rode with the indefatig- 
able activity of other days. Mazarin, gloomy and pensive, 
allowed himself to be dragged along in the midst of this career 
of spectres. 

By daybreak they had gone twelve leagues in a single 
stage. The half of the escort were knocked up, and some 
horses fell. 

“ The horses of the present day are not like those of former 
times,” said Porthos. “ Everything degenerates.” 

“I have sent Grimaud forward to Dammartin,” said Ara- 
mis. “ He is to bring us five fresh horses — one for his Emi- 
nence and four for ourselves ; the main thing is not to leave 
his Eminence. The rest of the escort will rejoin us later. 
When we have once passed Saint Denis, we shall have nothing 
more to fear.” 

Grimaud brought back five horses. The nobleman to whom 
he had applied, being one of Porthos’s friends, had shown the 
greatest alacrity, not to sell, as it had been proposed to him, 
but to make an offer of them. In ten minutes more the escort 
halted at Ermenonville ; but the four friends rode on with 
fresh ardour, escorting M. de Mazarin. 

At noon they entered the avenue of Porthos’s chateau. 

“ Ah ! ” said Mousqueton, whose place was near D’Arta- 
gnan, and who had not uttered a single word throughout the 
whole journey, — “Ah! you will believe what you please, sir, 
but I protest that this is the first time that I have breathed 
freely since my departure from Pierrefonds.” 

And he put his horse to a gallop, to announce to the house- 
hold the arrival of M. du Vallon and his friends. 

“ There are four of us,” said D’ Artagnan to his friends ; “ we 
will take turns in guarding monsignor, and each of us will re- 
main on guard for three hours. Athos shall inspect the cha- 
teau, as we must make it impregnable, in case of a siege ; 
Porthos shall look to the victualling of the garrison, and 


766 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Aramis to the arrival of troops. That is to say, Athos shall be 
chief engineer, Porthos commissary-general, and Aramis the 
governor of the place.’’ 

In the meantime they installed Mazarin in the best apart- 
ment of the chateau. 

Grentlemen,” said he, when this installation had been 
made, you do not calculate, I presume, on keeping me long 
here incognito ? ” 

No, monsignor,” replied D’Artagnan ; on the contrary, 
we mean quickly to declare publicly that we have you in our 
possession.” 

Then you will be besieged.” 

We expect so.” 

And what will you do ? ” 

We shall defend ourselves. If the late Cardinal de Riche- 
lieu were alive, he would recount to you a certain story of a 
bastion called Saint Gervais, which we four, with our four 
lacqueys and a dozen dead men, held against a whole army.” 

Such acts of prowess only take place once, sir ; they are 
never repeated.” 

“ But this time we shall have no occasion for being so heroic. 
To-morrow the Parisian army will receive information, and on 
the following day it will be here. The battle, instead of being 
fought at Saint Denis or Charenton, will then be fought near 
Compiègne or Villers-Cotterets.” 

Monsieur le Prince will beat you, as he has always done.” 

It is possible, monsignor ; but before the battle, we will 
pass your Eminence on to another chateau belonging to our 
friend Du Vallon, who has three like this. We do not wish to 
expose your Eminence to the hazards of war.” 

Come,” said Mazarin, I perceive that I must capitulate.” 

Before the siege ? ” 

Yes ; the conditions will perhaps be more favorable.” 

Ah, monsignor ! You will see how reasonable we are 
about conditions.” 

Well, then, let us see what these conditions are ? ” 

“ Rest a little first, monsignor, and we will go and con- 
sider about it.” 

I have no need of rest, gentlemeii. I need to know 
whether I am in the hands of friends or enemies.” 

Friends ! your Excellence, friends ! ” 

Well, then, tell me at once what you want, that I may see 


POSSIBILITIES FOR PORTHOS AND D\iRTAGNAN. 767 

whether an arrangement be possible between us. Speak, Mon- 
sieur le Comte de la Fère. ” 

Monsignor, I have nothing to ask for myself, and I should 
have too much to demand for France. I therefore waive my 
own pretensions. Pass on to the Chevalier d’Herblay.’’ 

And Athos bowed, stepped back, and remained leaning 
against the mantelpiece, as a simple spectator of the confer- 
ence. 

“ Speak, then, Chevalier d’Herblay,” said the Cardinal. 

What do you desire? No preambles — no ambiguities. Be 
distinct, brief, and explicit.’’ 

I will play with all my cards on the table.” 

“ Let us see you play, then.” 

“ I have in my pocket,” said Aramis, “ the schedule of the 
conditions demanded by the deputation which came from Paris 
yesterday, and of which I was a member. Respect, forthwith, 
the ancient right ; the demands which are contained in this 
schedule must be granted.” 

“We had nearly come to an agreement upon them,” said 
Mazarin ; “ let us then pass on to private conditions.” 

“ You think, then, that there will be some ? ” said Aramis, 
smiling. 

“ I think that you will not all have the same disinterested- 
ness as Monsieur Comte de la Fère,” said Mazarin, turn- 
ing to Athos and bowing to him. 

“ Ah, monsignor, you are right,” said Aramis ; “ and I am 
happy to find that you at last render justice to the Count. 
Monsieur le Comte de la Fère is a superior being, who soars 
above vulgar desires and human passions; he is an antique 
and haughty soul. The Count is no common man ; he stands 
alone. You are right, mon signor ; we are not his equals, and 
we are the first to agree with you on that point.” 

“ Aramis,” said Athos, “ are you jeering me ? ” 

“ No, my dear Count, no ; I only say what we think, and 
what all who know you also think. But you are right : you 
are not now the subject of discussion, but monsignor and his 
unworthy servant the Chevalier d’Herblay.” 

“ Well then, sir, what do you wish, independent of those, 
general conditions to which we will return hereafter?” 

“ I wish, monsignor, that Normandy should be given to 
Madame de Longueville, with entire and full absolution, and 
five hundred thousand livres. I desire that the King should 


768 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


stand godfather to the son to which she has just given \)irth ; 
and then that you, monsignor, after having assisted at the 
baptism of the child, should go and pay your respects to our 
Holy Father the Pope.” 

That is to say, that you wish me to abdicate my functions 
as a minister — to leave France — in fact, to go into banish- 
ment.” 

I wish monsignor to become Pope on the first vacancy, 
reserving the power of then demanding plenary indulgences 
for myself and my friends.” 

Mazarin made an indescribable grimace. 

And you, sir ? ” said he to D’Artagnan. 

I monsignor ? I altogether agree with the Chevalier 
d’Herblay,” said the Gascon, ^‘except on the last article, on 
which I entirely dissent from him. Far from wishing that 
monsignor should leave France, I wish you to remain in 
Paris ; far from wishing you to become Pope, I wish you 
to remain Prime Minister, for monsignor is a great politician. 
I will even endeavour, as far as depends on my owm exer- 
tions, that you shall get the better of the entire Fronde ; 
but on condition that you remember a little the King’s faithful 
friends, and that you give the first company in the Musketeers 
to a certain person whom I shall name. And now you, M. du 
Vallon?” 

Yes, it is your turn, sir,” said Mazarin. Speak.” 

I,” said Porthos — I wish that the Cardinal, in honour of 
my house that has given him an asylum, would erect my estate 
into a barony, with the promise of an order for one of my 
friends, on the first promotion that his Majesty shall make.” 

You know, sir, that to receive the order it is necessary to 
give proofs of nobility.” 

That friend shall give them. Besides, if it should be abso- 
lutely necessary, monsignor could tell him how this formality 
may be avoided.” 

Mazarin bit his lips. The blow was direct; and he an- 
swered dryly enough. 

All this amalgamates badly enough, it appears to me ; for 
if I satisfy one, I must necessarily displease the other. If I 
remain at Paris, I cannot go to Rome ; if I become Pope, T 
cannot remain Minister ; if I am not Minister, I cannot make 
D’Artagnan a captain or M. du Vallon a baron.” 

“ It is true,” said Aramis. ‘‘ Therefore, as I am in the mi- 


POSSIBILITIES FOR PORTHOS AND D'ARTAGJStAN. 769 




nority, I withdraw my proposition regarding monsignor’s 
journey to Rome and his abdication of the ministry.”^ 

‘‘ So then do I remain Minister ? ” asked Mazarin. 

You remain Minister — that is understood, monsignor,” 
said D’Artagnan ; “ France has need of you.” 
i And I withdraw my proposals, and his Eminence shall 
^ remain Prime Minister, and even the favorite of her Majesty, 
, if she will grant to me and my friends what we demand for 
France and for ourselves.” 

“ Occupy yourselves about your own affairs, gentlemen, and 
leave France to agree with me as she can,” said Mazarin. 

^‘No, no!” replied Aramis. It is absolutely necessary to 
treat with the Fronde ; and your Eminence must write down 
and sign a treaty in our presence ; at the same time engaging, 
by this treaty, to obtain its ratification by the Queen.” 

I can answer only for myself,” said Mazarin ; “ I cannot 
answer for the Queen. And should her Majesty refuse ? ” 

Oh,” said D’Artagnan, monsignor knows well enough 
■ that her Majesty can refuse him nothing.” 

Here, monsignor,” said Aramis, “ is the treaty proposed by 
the deputation from the Frondeurs. Will your Eminence 
please to read and examine it ? ” 

I know it,” said Mazarin. 

Then sign it.” 

Reflect, gentlemen, that a signature given under such cir- 
cumstances as we are now placed in might be considered as 
exacted from me by violence.” 

Monsignor will be there to say that it was given volun- 
tarily.” 

“ But, after all, supposing I should refuse ? ” 

“Then, monsignor,” said D’Artagnan, “your Eminence could 
only blame yourself for the consequences of a refusal.” 

“ Would you dare to lay hands on a cardinal ? ” 

“ Monsignor has not hesitated to lay hands on her Majesty’s 
Musketeers ! ” 

“ The Queen will avenge me, gentlemen.” 

“ I do not believe she will, although it is probable she may 
much wish it ; but we will go to Paris with your Eminence, 
and the Parisians are the sort of people to defend us.” 

“ How anxious they must now be at Rueil and St. Ger- 
main ! ” said Aramis ; “ they must be inquiring : Where is the 
Cardinal ? What has become of the Minister ? Where is 


770 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


the favourite gone ? How they must be looking for monsi- 
gnor in all the holes and corners ! What remarks they must 
be making! And if the Fronde should only hear of monsi- 
gnoFs disappearance, how it will triumph ! 

It is quite frightful ! ’’ murmured Mazarin. 

Sign the treaty, then, monsignor,” said Aramis. 

But if I sign and the Queen should refuse to ratify it ? ” 

I undertake to go to her Majesty,” said D’Artagnan, and 
to obtain her signature.” 

Take care,” said Mazarin, “ lest you do not receive such a 
reception at Saint Germain as you think you have a right to 
expect.” 

Ah, bah ! ” said D’Artagnan, “ I will manage it so as to be 
welcome. I know a method.” 

What is that ? ” 

‘^1 will carry to her Majesty a letter in which monsignor 
announces the complete exhaustion of the finances.” 

And then ? ” said Mazarin, turning pale. 

Then, when her Majesty’s embarrassment is at its great- 
est height, I will take her to Rueil, lead her to the orangery, 
and point out to her a certain spring that moves an orange- 
box ” — 

Enough, sir,” murmured the Cardinal — enough ! Where* 
is the treaty ? ” 

Here it is,” replied Aramis. 

“ You see that we are generous,” said D’Artagnan ; for we 
might have done many things with such a secret.” 

Sign, then,” said Aramis, offering him the pen. 

Mazarin rose up, and walked up and down for a few 
moments, more thoughtful than depressed. Then suddenly 
stopping : 

‘‘ And when I have signed, gentlemen, what is to be my 
security ? ” 

My word of honour, sir,” replied Athos. 

Mazarin started, turned to the Comte de la Fère, examined 
for one moment his noble and loyal face, and taking the pen — 

That is sufficient for me. Monsieur le Comte,” said lie. 

And he signed. 

And now, M. d’Artagnan,” he added, “ prepare to depart 
for Saint Germain, to carry a letter from me to the Queen.” 


THE PEN MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD. 771 


CHAPTER XCIV. 

HOW A THING MAY BE BETTER AND MORE SPEEDILY ACCOM- 
PLISHED BY THE PEN AND A THREAT THAN BY THE SWORD 
AND DEVOTION. 

D’Artagnan knew his mythology : he knew that opportu- 
nity has but one tuft of hair by which she can be laid hold of, 
and he was not the man to let her pass by without seizing 
her by the forelock. He organized a plan for a prompt and 
secure journey, by sending forward a relay of horses to Chan- 
tilly, so that he might be in Paris in five or six hours. But 
before he set off he reflected that, for a man of talent and 
experience, it was a singular position to go forward toward an 
uncertainty, leaving a certainty behind him. 

In fact,’’ he said to himself, just before mounting his 
horse to depart on his dangerous mission, “ Athos is a hero of 
romance for generosity ; Porthos has an excellent disposition, 
but is easily influenced ; while Aramis has an hieroglyphic 
countenance — that is to say, always unreadable. What will 
these three elements produce, when I am no longer here to 
unite them ? The Cardinal’s deliverance, perhaps. Now, 
the Cardinal’s deliverance would be the ruin of our hopes ; 
and our hopes are, at present, the only recompense of twenty 
years’ labours, in comparison with which those of Hercules 
were the works of pigmies. 

He went to Aramis. % 

You are yourself, alone, my dear Chevalier,” said he to 
him, the Fronde incarnate. Distrust Athos, therefore, who 
will do no man’s business, not even his own. But, more than 
all, distrust Porthos, who considers Athos as a god on earth, 
and will aid him to promote Mazarin’s escape, provided that 
Mazarin has only the talent to weep or to play the chival- 
rous.” 

Aramis smiled craftily, but at the same time resolutely. 

Do not be afraid,” said he ; “I have my own conditions to 
make. I am not working for myself, but for others ; and it is 
necessary that my little ambition should lead to the advantage 
of the person to whom it rightfully belongs.” 

“ Good ! ” thought D’Artagnan. On this side I am easy 
enough.” 


772 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


He pressed Aramis’s hand and went to fii^d Porthos. 

My friend/’’ said he to him, “ you ha\^ worked so hard 
with me to build up our fortune that, at the moment when 
we are about to reap the fruits of our labours, it would be 
perfectly ridiculous to allow yourself to be governed by Ara- 
mis, whose cunning you know — a cunning that, between our- 
selves, is not always exempt from selfishness ; or -^thos, a 
man noble and disinterested, but also blasé, who, 116 longer 
desiring anything for himself, cannot understand' tlikt others 
should have any desires. What would you say, shj^ld either 
of our friends propose to you to let Màzarin escapil^’ 

“ Why, I should say that we have had' too muck^trouble in 
taking him to let him go in that manner.” 

Bravo, Porthos ! And you would be righ^my friend ; 
for with him you would lose your barony, whichbyou actually 
hold within your grasp, without reckoning that, once escaped 
from this place, Mazarin would have you hanged.” 

Do you think so ? ” .f 

“ I am sure of it.” '' Y- ^ 

Then I would kill him sooner than let him escape.” 

And you would be perfectly right. There was no doubt, 
you must remember, that when we we;^ transactirig our own 
affairs we were also transacting tho^ of the Fronde and the 
Frondeurs, who do not understau^^ political questions as we 
do, who are old soldiers.” » 

“ Do not be afraid, my dear'friend,” said Porthos ; “ I shall 
see you mount ycmr horse" from the window, and I shall fol- 
low you with my ^esyAintil you have disappeared. Then I 
shall return and take my place near the Cardinal, at a glass 
door looking i^^ his room. From there I shall see every- 
thing and at'Jhe slightest suspicious action I will extermi- 
nate him.”:** 

Bravo' ! ” thought D’Artagnan. In this quarter I be- 
lief e that the Cardinal will be well guarded.” 

He pressed the hand of the Lord of Pierrefonds and went 
in quest of Athos. 

My dear Athos,” said he, I am now going. I have only 
one thing to say to you. You know Anne of Austria. Maz- 
arin’s captivity is the sole guarantee for my life. Should you 
permit him to escape, I am a dead man.” 

“Nothing less than such a consideration, my dear D’Arta- 
gnan, was necessary to determine me to undertake the office of 


THE PEN MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD. 773 


a jailer. I give you my word that you shall find the Cardinal 
where you leave him.” 

“ There is something that gives me greater confidence than 
all the royal signatures,” thought D’Artagnan. ‘‘ Now that I 
have Athos’s word I may depart.” 

D’Artagnan set off quite alone, with no other escort than 
his OAvii sword and the simple passport of the Cardinal to the 
Queen’s presence. 

In six hours after leaving Pierrefonds he was at Saint 
Germain. 

Mazarin’s disappearance was as yet unknown: Anne of 
Austria was alone aware of it, and concealed her anxiety even 
from her most intimate friends. The two soldiers had been 
found, gagged and pinioned, in D’Artagnan’s and Porthos’s 
room. The use of their limbs and their tongues had been 
immediately restored to them ; but they had no more to tell 
than what they knew — that is, how they had been fished up, 
bound, and stripped. But as to what D’Artagnan and Porthos 
had done after they had slipped through the opening where 
the soldiers were taken in, they were as ignorant as the 
other inhabitants of the chateau. 

Bernouin alone knew a little more than the others. Ber- 
nouin, finding that his master did not return, and hearing it 
strike twelve o’clock, had taken it upon himself to make his 
way into the orangery. The first door, barricaded with the 
furniture, had at once aroused suspicions ; but yet he did not 
wish to impart these suspicions to any on^and had patiently 
forced his way through the midst of all tms confusion. Then 
he reached the corridor, all the doors of which he found open. 
It was the same with those of Athos’s apartment and the park 
door. Having reached the latter, it was easy to follow the 
footsteps through the snow ; he saw that these steps termi- 
nated at the wall ; on the other side he discovered the same 
tracks, then the horses’ footmarks, and finally the vestiges of 
a complete troop of cavalry, that had gone off in the direction 
of Enghien. From that moment he had not the slightest 
doubt that the Cardinal had been carried off by the three 
prisoners, since they had disappeared with him ; and he had 
hastened to Saint Germain to inform the Queen of his disap- 
pearance. 

Anne of Austria had enjoined silence, and Bernouin had 
scrupulously observed it. She had, however, sent for M. le 


774 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Prince, to whom she told everything, and he immediately 
sent out five or six hundred horsemen, with orders to scour 
all the environs, and to bring back to Saint Germain any 
suspicious troop of horsemen who might be found going from 
Eueil in any direction. 

Now, as D’Artagnan, being alone, did not form a troop, and 
as he was not going from Kneil, but was proceeding to Saint 
Germain, no one took any notice of him, and his journey was 
not at all interrupted. 

On entering the court of the old chateau, the first person 
whom our ambassador saw was Master Bernouin in person, 
standing on the threshold and waiting for news of his lost 
master. On beholding D’Artagnan riding into the court of 
honour, Bernouin rubbed his eyes and imagined he must be 
mistaken. But D’Artagnan gave him a little friendly nod, 
jumped off his horse, threw the bridle over the arm of a 
lacquey who was passing, and went up to the valet-de-charnbre, 
whom he accosted with a smile on his lips. 

Monsieur d’Artagnan ! ” he exclaimed, just like a man 
who has the nightmare and who talks in his sleep, — ‘‘ Mon- 
sieur D’Artagnan ! ” 

Himself, Monsieur Bernouin.” 

And what are yon come here for ? ” 

^To bring you news of M. de Mazarin, and very recent 
news, too.” 

And what has become of him ? ” 

He is as well a^either you or I are.” 

No misfortune, tlien, has befallen him ? ” 

‘^None whatever. He was only obliged to make an expe- 
dition into the Isle of France, and he requested the Comte de 
la Fère, M. dn Vallon, and myself to accompany him. We 
were too much devoted to him to refuse such a request. We 
set off last night ; and now here I am ” — 

Here you are ? ” 

His Eminence had a message to send to her Majesty — 
something most secret and confidential — a mission that could 
only be confided to a trustworthy man so that he de- 
spatched me to Saint Germain. So then, my dear Monsieur 
Bernouin, if you wish to do something that would be most 
agreeable to your master, inform her Majesty of my arrival, 
and tell her why.” 

Whether he spoke seriously or was jesting, as it was evident 


THE PEN MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD. 775 


that D Artagnan was, under the present circumstaiu'es, the 
only man who could relieve Anne of Austria from anxiety, 
Bernouin did not object to apprise her of this singular 
embassy ; and, as D’ Artagnan had foreseen, the Queen or- 
dered him to be introduced instantaneously. 

D’ Artagnan approached the Queen with every mark of the 
most profound respect. 

When he was three steps from her, he knelt and presented 
the letter. It was, as we have said, a mere letter of introduc- 
tion and of credence. The Queen read it, recognised the 
Cardinal’s writing, although it was somewhat shaky, and as 
this letter told her nothing that had transpired, she demanded 
the particulars. 

D’ Artagnan recounted everything with that air of innocent 
simplicity which he knew so well how to assume under certain 
circumstances. 

The Queen, as he proceeded, regarded him with increasing 
astonishment. She could not comprehend how any man would 
dare to conceive such an enterprise, much less that he would 
have the audacity to recount it to her, whose interest, if not 
her positive duty, it was to punish it. 

What, sir ! ” when D’ Artagnan had terminated his recital, 
exclaimed the Queen, colouring with indignation, — you dare 
to avow your crime — to recount to me your treason ! ” 

Pardon me, madame ; but it seems to me that I have 
either explained myself imperfectly, or your Majesty has mis- 
understood me. There is neither crime nor treason in all 
this. M. de Mazarin kept M. du Vallon and myself in prison 
because we could not believe that he had sent us to England 
quietly to see them cut off the head of Charles I., the brother- 
in-law of the late King, your husband, and the husband of 
Madame Henrietta, your sister and guest ; and because we did 
all we could to save the life of the royal martyr. We were, 
therefore, convinced that there must be some mistake, of which 
we were the victims, and that an explanation between our- 
selves and his Eminence was necessary. Kow, that an expla- 
nation may be productive of benefit it is necessary that it 
should be made quietly, far from disturbance and interruption. 
So we conducted the Cardinal to my friend’s chateau, and there 
we did come to an explanation. Well, madame, what we had 
imagined proved to be really the case : there had been a mis- 
take. M. Mazarin thought that we had served M. Cromwell 


776 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


instead of Charles I., which would have been a disgrace that 
might have reflected from us to him, and from him to your 
Majesty, — a base, cowardly act, that would have tainted to its 
root the royalty of your illustrious son. Now, we have given 
him proofs to the contrary ; and these we are also ready to 
give to your Majesty herself, by calling upon the august widow 
who now weeps in the Louvre, where she is lodged by your 
royal munificence. These proofs have so completely satisfied 
his Eminence that, as a token of his satisfaction, he has sent 
me, as your Majesty may perceive, to converse with your 
Majesty about the reparations naturally due to gentlemen 
who have not been, properly appreciated, but have instead 
been wrongfully persecuted.’’ 

I hear you and I admire you, sir,” said Anne of Austria ; 
for in truth I have rarely seen such an excess of impudence.” 

“ Why,” said D’Artagnan, here is your Majesty also, who 
now in turn misunderstands our intentions, as M. de IMazarin 
did previously.” 

You are yourself mistaken, sir,” replied the Queen ; and 
I misunderstand so little that in ten minutes you will be 
arrested, and in an hour I shall set off to deliver my Minister 
at the head of my army.” 

“T am quite sure that your Majesty will not commit such 
an act of imprudence,” said D’Artagnan. In the first place, 
because it- would be perfectly useless, and then it would pro- 
duce the most serious consequences. Before he could be 
delivered the Cardinal would be dead ; and his Eminence is 
so convinced of the truth of what I say that he entreated me, 
should I find that your Majesty entertained such intentions, to 
do all I could to induce you to change your resolution.” 

‘‘Well, then, I will content myself with having you ar- 
rested.” 

“ That would be equally imprudent, madame ; for the con- 
tingency of my arrest is as well provided for as the Cardinal’s 
deliverance. If I am not back by a certain hour to-morrow, 
on the following day the Cardinal will be conducted to Baris.” 

“ It is evident, sir, that you live far away from men 
and affairs ; for otherwise you would know that since we left 
Paris the Cardinal has been there five or six times ; and that 
he there saw M. de Beaufort, M. de Bouillon, M. de Coadjuteur, 
and M. d’Elbeuf, not one of whom had any idea of arresting 
him,” 


THE PEN MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD. 777 


Pardon me, madame, I know all this. Therefore our 
friends, seeing that these gentlemen are making war for their 
own interested purposes, and that by granting their several 
demands the Cardinal would get off cheaply, will conduct 
his Eminence not to M. de Beaufort or to M. de Bouillon, to 
the coadjutor or to M. d’Elbeuf, bnt to the Parliament, 
which might possibly be bought in detail, but Avhich M. 
Mazarin himself is not rich enough to bny in a mass.” 

I verily believe,” said Anne of Austria, regarding him with 
a look which, disdainful in a woman, became terrible in a 
queen, — I verily believe that yon are threatening the mother 
of your King ! ” 

Madame,” replied D’Artagnan, I threaten because I am 
forced to do so. I exalt myself because I am compelled to 
place myself on a level with events and persons. But at least 
believe one thing, madame, — as true as there is a heart tliat 
beats for you in this bosom, — believe that you have been the 
constant idol of our lives, which, as you well know, we have 
risked twenty times for your Majesty. Will not your Majesty, 
then, have pity on your servants, who for twenty years have 
vegetated in the shade, without permitting the sacred and 
solemn secrets that they shared with you to escape even in 
one single sigh ? Look at me — at me, who am now address- 
ing you, madame — me, whom you accuse of elevating his 
voice and of assujning a threatening tone. What am I ? A 
poor officer — without fortune, without shelter, without any 
futurity, if the countenance of my Queen, Avhich I have for a 
long time sought, be not for a moment turned toward me. 
Look at the Comte de la Fere — a pattern of the noblesse^, 
the flower of chivalry ; he has espoused the party opposed to 
his Queen, or rather not so : he took part against her Minister, 
and he has no demands to make, I believe. And lastly look 
at M. du Vallon — that faithful heart, that iron arm ; he has 
been waiting for twenty years for one word from your 
Majesty’s lips, that he may be made by his coat-of-arms what 
he is by his sentiments and his valour. In fine, regard your 
people, who are certainly something to a queen, — your people, 
who love you and yet suffer ; whom you love, and who are yet 
starving ; who ask nothing more than to bless you, and who 
nevertheless — Ko, I am wrong : your people will never curse 
you, madame. Well, then, say one word, and all is finished. 
Peace succeeds to war, joy to tears, and happiness to misery.” 


778 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Anne of Austria looked with a kind of astonishment at 
D’Artagnan’s martial countenance, on which a singular expres- 
sion of emotion might be traced. 

And why did you not say all this before you proceeded to 
action ? ” she replied. 

Because, madame, it was necessary to prove one thing to 
your Majesty, which she seemed to doubt, — that we have still 
some valour left, and that it is reasonable we should be in some 
measure appreciated.’^ 

And from what I see. this valour would not stop at any- 
thing,” said Anne of Austria. 

It has stopped at nothing in the past,” replied D’Arta- 
gnan ; “ why then should it do. otherwise in the future ? ” 

“ And this valour, in case of refusal, and consequently in 
the event of a struggle, would even go so far as to carry me 
off, my own self, from the midst of my Court, to deliver me up 
to the Fronde, as you wish to deliver up my Minister ? ” 

‘AVe have never dreamt of such a thing, madame,” replied 
D’Artagnan, with that species of Gascon braggadocio which, 
with him, was merely naivete; “but if we four had formed 
the resolution we most certainly should have executed it.” 

“ I ought to know it,” murmured Anne of Austria : “ they 
are invincible men.” 

Alas, madame ! ” said D’Artagnan, “ this proves that we 
are only now, for the first time, justly appreciated by your 
Majesty.” 

“ Well, then,” said the Queen, “ but this appreciation — 
should I have it at last ? ” 

“ Your Majesty will do us justice ; and, in doing us justice, 
will no longer treat us as men of the common stamp, but will 
recognise in me an ambassador worthy of the great interests I 
am charged to discuss with you.” 

“ Where is the treaty ? ” 

“ Here it is.” 


THE PEN MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD. 779 


CHAPTER XCV. 

HOW A THING MAY BE BETTER AND MORE SPEEDILY ACCOM- 
PLISHED BY THE PEN AND A THREAT THAN BY THE 
SWORD AND DEVOTION. {Continuation!) 

Anne of Austria cast her eyes over the treaty, which 
D’Artagnan presented to her. 

“ I see here,” said she, only general conditions. The inter- 
ests of M. de Conti, of M. de Bouillon, of M. de Beaufort, of 
M. d’Elbeuf, and of the coadjutor, are here respectively 
determined. But what of yours ? ” 

We do ourselves the justice, madame, of placing ourselves 
on our proper level. We thought that our names were not 
worthy of figuring near those great names.” 

But you have not, I presume, renounced the right of per- 
sonally explaining your pretensions to me ? ” 

Madame, you are a great and powerful Queen, and it would 
be unworthy of your greatness and power not to recompense 
worthily men who will bring his Eminence back to Saint 
Germain.” 

It is my intention,” said the Queen. Therefore proceed.” 
He who has negotiated this affair — I beg pardon for begin- 
ning with myself, but it is necessary that I should invest my- 
self with the importance, not that I have assumed, but that has 
been given me — he who has negotiated the affair of the 
Cardinal’s ramson ought, it appears to me — in order that the 
recompense may not be unworthy of your majesty — he ought to 
be made the Commander of the Guards, something like the 
Captain of the Musketeers.” 

You ask of me M. de Tréville’s place ! ” 

The place is vacant, madame. It is now a year since M. 
de Tréville vacated it, and it has not yet been filled.” 

But it is one of the principal military offices of the King’s 
household.” 

M. de Tréville was a simple Gascon volunteer like myself, 
madame, and he held this appointment twenty years.” 

You have an answer for everything, sir,” said Anne of 
Austria. 

And she took a commission from a desk, filled it out, and 
signed it. 


780 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Assuredly, madame,’’ said D’Artagnan, taking the commis- 
sion and bowing, this is a splendid and noble recompense ; 
but the affairs of this world are full of instability, and a man 
who should fall into disgrace with your Majesty might lose this 
office to-morrow.” 

What, then, do you wish more ? ” said the Queen, colour- 
ing on finding that she was encountered by an intellect as 
keen as her own. 

‘‘ A hundred thousand livres for this poor Captain of Mus- 
keteers, payable on the day when his services shall be no longer 
agreeable to your Majesty.” 

The Queen hesitated. 

“ And only to think,” continued D’Artagnan, that the 
Parisians offered the other day, by an Act of Parliament, six 
hundred thousand livres to any one who should deliver the 
Cardinal to them dead or alive — if alive, to hang him ; if 
dead, to drag him to the shambles.” 

Come,” said Anne of Austria, that is reasonable enough, 
since you ask from a Queen only one-sixth of what the Parlia- 
ment offered.” 

And she signed a promise for a hundred thousand livres. 

What next ? ” said she. 

‘^Madame, my friend Du Vallon is rich, and consequently 
has nothing to desire on the score of fortune. But I believe 
that there has been a question between him and M. de Mazarin 
as to erecting his estate into a barony. It is, indeed, if I 
remember right, a promise.” 

A country boor!” said Anne of Austria. Everybody 
will laugh.” 

So be it,” said D’Artagnan. But of one thing I am 
certain, that they who laugh before him will not laugh 
twice.” 

“ Well, then, agreed as to the barony,” said Anne of Austria. 
And she signed it. 

Now there is the Chevalier or the Abbé d’Herblay, which- 
ever your Majesty pleases.” 

Does he wish to be a bishop ? ” 

“ No, madame ; he desires a much easier thing.” 

And what is that ? ” 

‘^It is that his Majesty the King would deign to stand god- 
father to the son of Madame de Longueville.” 

The Queen smiled. 


THE PEN MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD. Y81 

I ' _ 

I M. de Longueville is of royal extraction, madame,” said 
i D’Artagnan. 

I Yes,” said the Queen ; but his son ? ” 

Î His son, madame, ought to be so, since his mother’s hus- 
f band is.” 

And has your friend nothing more to ask for Madame de 
Longueville ? ” 

‘‘No, madame ; for he presumes that his Majesty the King, 
deigning to be godfather to her child, cannot make an offering 
of less than five hundred thousand livres as a churching pres- 
ent to the mother, at the same time reserving the government 
of Normandy for the father.” 

“ As for the government of Normandy, I think I may become 
responsible for it,” said the Queen ; “ but as for the five hundred 
thousand livres, the Cardinal is incessantly repeating that there 
is -no more money in the State coffers.” 

“We will look for it together, madame, if your Majesty will 
allow it, and we will manage to find it.” 

“ And then ? ” 

“ Then, madame ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ That is all.” 

“ Have you not, then, a fourth companion ? ” 

“ Yes, madame, — M. le Comte de la Fère.” 

“ What does he ask for ? ” 

“ He asks for nothing.” 

“ Nothing ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Is there a man in the world who, having the power of ask- 
ing, yet asks for nothing ? ” 

“There is M. le Comte de la Fère, madame. But M. le 
Comte de la Fère is not a man.” 

“ What is he, then ? ” 

“ M. le Comte de la Fère is a demi-god.” 

“ Has he not a son, a relation, a nephew, a young man of 
whom Corominges has spoken as a brave youth, and who 
brought the colours from Lens with M. de Chatillon ? ” 

“ He has, as your Majesty has said, a ward, who is called the 
Vicomte de Bragelonne.” 

“ If a regiment were given to this young man, what would 
his guardian say ? ” 

Perhaps he might accept it,” 


782 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ Perhaps ? ” 

“Yes, if your Majesty were to request him to accept it.’’ 

“You have spoken truly, sir; he is an extraordinary man. 
Well, then, we will think about it, and perhaps we may request 
him. Are you satisfied, sir ? ” 

“Yes, your Majesty. But there is one thing which the 
Queen has not signed.” 

“ What is that ? ” 

“ It is the most important thing of all.” 

“ The consent to the treaty ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ And of what consequence is it ? I can sign the treaty to- 
morrow.” 

“There is one thing that I can positively assure your 
Majesty,” replied D’Artagnan, “ which is, that if your Majesty 
does not sign this treaty to-day, it will be too late to do it to- 
morrow. I therefore entreat you to place your signature at the 
bottom of this form, which, as you may see, is written entirely 
by M. de Mazarin : 

“/ consent to ratify the treaty 'proposed by the Parisians. 

The Queen was caught, and could not draw back ; she signed 
the treaty. But no sooner had she done so than her pride 
burst forth like a tempest, and she began to weep. 

D’Artagnan started on seeing these tears. Since those 
days queens have wept like other women. 

The Gascon shook his head. These royal tears seemed to 
scorch his very heart. 

“ Madame,” said he, kneeling, “ look at the unhappy gentle- 
man now at your feet. He begs you to believe that, for him, a 
simple gesture from your Majesty would be all-sufficient. He 
has faith in himself — he has faith in his friends ; he wishes 
also to have faith in his Queen ; and to prove that he has no 
distrust — that he speculates on nothing — he will bring M. de 
Mazarin back to your Majesty without any conditions what- 
ever. See, madame, here are your Majesty’s sacred signatures. 
If you think that you ought to return them to me, you will do 
so. But from this moment they bind you to nothing.” 

And D’Artagnan, still on his knees, with a look resplendent 
with pride and manly intrepidity, gave back to Anne of Austria 
the whole of those papers which he had, as it were, torn from 
her, one by one, with so much difficulty. 


THE PEN MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD. 783 


There are moments — for if not all is good, not all is evil 
in this world — there are moments when, in the most arid and 
coldest hearts, a generous feeling, bedewed by the tears of 
extreme emotion, germinates, which the frigid calculations of 
pride would stifle did not another feeling seize upon it at its 
birth. This was one of those moments with Anne of Austria. 
D’Artagnan, by yielding to his own emotion, in harmony with 
the Queen’s, had accomplished the work of a profound diplo- 
macy. He was therefore instantly rewarded for his address, or 
his disinterestedness, according as we give credit to his talent 
or his heart for having prompted this proceeding. 

You were right, sir,” said Anne ; “ I did misconceive you. 
Here are the acts signed, and I give them to you of my own free 
will. Go, and bring the Cardinal back as soon as you can.” 

“ Madame,” said D’ Artagnan, twenty years ago — for my 
memory is good — I had the honour, behind the tapestry of 
the Hôtel de Ville, to kiss one of those beautiful hands.” 

‘‘ There is the other,” said the Queen ; “ and that the left 
hand may not be less liberal than the right [drawing from her 
finger a diamond, almost like the first], take this ring, and keep 
it for my sake.” 

“ Madame,” said H’ Artagnan, rising, ‘‘ I have only one more 
wish, which is, that the first thing you would demand of me 
should be my life.” 

And with that dignity and grace which he alone possessed 
he left the room. 

I have indeed misunderstood these men,” said Anne of 
Austria, looking at D’Artagnan’s retreating figure ; “ and now 
it is too late to make any use of them : in one year the King 
will attain his majority.” 

Fifteen hours afterwards D’Artagnan and Porthos brought 
Mazarin to the Queen, and received, the one the captaincy of 
the Musketeers, the other his diploma of Baron. 

Well, are you satisfied ? ” asked the Queen. 

D’Artagnan bowed ; Porthos turned and twisted his diploma 
between his fingers, at the same time looking at Mazarin. 

What is the matter now ? ” asked the Minister. 

“Why, monsignor, that there was some question about a 
promise of a Chevalier of the Order on the first promotion.” 

“ But,” said Mazarin, “you know that no one can be a 
Chevalier of the Order without establishing proofs of his 
nobility.” 


784 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


Oh. ! ” said Porthos, I did not ask the blue riband for 
myself, monsignor.’^ 

“ For whom, then ? ’ ^ said Mazarin. 

For my friend, M. le Comte de la Fère.” 

Ah, for him ! ” said the Queen ; that is another thing ; 
the proofs are established/’ 

And he will have it ? ” 

He has it/’ 

The same day the treaty of Paris was signed ; and it was 
everywhere proclaimed that the Cardinal had shut himself 
up for three days, in order to work at it with greater care. 

We shall now see what each gained by this treaty. 

M. de Conti had Damvilliers, and, having established his 
proofs as a general, obtained permission to remain a military 
man, and not to become a cardinal. Moreover, some words 
had been dropped about a marriage with Mazarin’s niece ; 
and these words had been favourably received by the Prince, 
it being, in his opinion, of little consequence to whom he was 
married, provided that he was married. 

The Due de Beaufort returned to the Court, with all the 
reparations due for the injuries he had received, and with all 
the honours to which his rank entitled him. He further 
obtained the unconditional pardon of all who had assisted 
him in his escape, the reversion of the admiralty now held 
by the Due de Tendôine, his father, and an indemnity for his 
houses and chateaux, which the Parliament of Brittany had 
caused to be demolished. 

The Due de Bouillon received domains equal in vahie to his 
principality of Sedan, with indemnity for the eight years thai 
he had not enjoyed that principality, and the title of prince 
granted to himself and his family. 

The Due de Longueville had the government of Pont-de- 
1’ Arche, five hundred thousand livres for his wife, and the 
honour of seeing his son held at the baptismal font by the 
young King and the young Henrietta of England. 

Aramis stipulated that Bazin should officiate at this solem- 
nity, and that Planchet should supply the sugar-plums. 

The Due d’Elbeuf obtained the payment of certain sums due 
to his wife, a hundred thousand livres for his eldest son, and 
twenty-five thousand for each of the other three. 

The coadjutor was the only person who obtained nothiug. 
They. promised him, it is true, to negotiate the affair of Lis 


THE KING REENTERS THE CAPITAL. 785 


hat with the Pope ; but he well knew what confidence he 
could repose in such promises, coming from the Queen and 
the Cardinal. Quite different from M. de Conti, not being 
able to become a cardinal he was obliged to remain a military 
man. 

Therefore, when all Paris was rejoicing at the prospect of 
the King’s return, which was set for the next day, Gondy 
alone, in the midst of the general gayety, was in such extreme 
bad humour that he immediately sent for two men whom he 
was in the habit of summoning when he was in that state of 
mind. One of these two men was the Comte de Rochefort ; 
the other, the mendicant of Saint Eustache. 

They came with their usual punctuality, and the coadjutor 
passed a great portion of the night with them. 


CHAPTER XCVI. 

IN WHICH IT IS PROVED THAT SOMETIMES IT IS MORE DIFFI- 
CULT FOR KINGS TO REENTER THE CAPITAL OF THEIR 
REALM THAN TO LEAVE IT. 

While H’Artagnan and Porthos were gone to conduct the 
Cardinal to Saint Germain, Athos and Aramis, who had left 
them at Saint Denis, had reentered Paris. * 

Each of them had a visit to pay. 

Aramis hastened to the Hôtel de Ville, where Madame de 
Longueville then was. At the first intelligence of the peace 
the beautiful Duchess uttered violent exclamations. The war 
was making her a queen : the peace would lead to her abdica- 
tion. She declared that she would never consent, and that 
she wished the war to be eternal. 

But when Aramis had placed this peace, with all its advan- 
tages, in its proper light — when he had shown her the vice- 
royalty of Pont-de-1’ Arche, that is to say, of all Normandy, 
in lieu of the precarious and contested royalty of Paris — 
when he had sounded in her ears the five hundred thousand 
promised livres — when he had set before her eyes the daz- 
zling perspective of the King doing her the honour to hold 
her child in his arms at the baptismal font, Madame de 
Longueville no longer resisted ; at least, not more tha,n all 


T86 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


pretty women are accustomed to resist, and only defended 
herself that she might surrender. 

Aramis pretended to believe in the reality of this opposition, 
and did not wish to think that he owed his success to anything 
but his own powers of persuasion. 

Madame,’’ said he, you wished to beat your brother, who 
is the greatest captain of the age, and when women of talent 
form any wish they are always successful. You have suc- 
ceeded. M. le Prince is beaten, since he can no longer make 
war. Now draw him over to our party. Detach him gently 
from the Queen, whom he does not love, and from M. Mazarin, 
whom he despises. The Fronde is a comedy, of which we 
have as yet played only the first act. Let us wait for M. de 
Mazarin at the winding-up of the plot ; that is to say, on the 
day when the Prince, by your influence, shall be turned against 
the Court.” 

Madame de Longueville was persuaded. Y\iQ duchesse fron- 
deuse was so convinced of the power of her beautiful eyes that 
she did not doubt their influence over the Prince de Con dé, 
and the scandalous chronicles of that time prove that she was 
not mistaken. 

Athos, on leaving Aramis in the Place Royal, went to 
Madame de Chevreuse. Here was yet another frondeuse to 
persuade ; but she was even less open to conviction than her 
young rival. There had been no condition stipulated in her 
favour. M. de Chevreuse had not been appointed governor of 
any province ; and if the Queen was to consent to become 
godmother, it must be either to her grandson or grand- 
daughter. 

Therefore, at the first announcement of peace Madame de 
Chevreuse frowned, and in spite of all Athos’s logic to prove 
the impossibility of a longer war, she insisted on the continu- 
ation of hostilities^ 

My fair friend,” said Athos, allow me to tell you that 
every one is tired of the war, and that every one except your- 
self and perhaps the coadjutor is anxious for peace. You 
will be again exiled, as in the time of Louis XIII. Believe 
me, we have passed the age of successful intrigues, and your 
beautiful eyes are not destined to destroy themselves by weep- 
ing over Paris, where there always must be two queens while 
you are here.” 

Oh ! ” said the Duchess, I cannot carry on the war alone ; 


THE KING REÈNTERS THE CAPITAL. 787 


but I can avenge myself on that ungrateful Queen and that 
ambitious favourite ; and on the word of a duchess, I- will 
avenge myself ! ’’ 

Madame,’’ said Athos, “ do not, I beseech you, create an 
unhappy future for Bragelonne ; he is well launched ; he is 
young, and the Prince is favourably inclined to him. Let us 
allow the young King to establish himself. Alas ! — excuse 
my weakness, madame, — a time comes when a man lives anew, 
and, as it were, grows young again in his children.” 

The Duchess smiled, half ironically, half tenderly. 

Count,” said she, I fear that you have been gained over by 
the Court. Have you not some blue riband in your pocket ? ” 

Yes, madame,” replied Athos ; I have that of the Gar- 
ter which King Charles I. gave me some days before his 
death.” 

The Count spoke the truth ; for he did not know what Por- 
thos had asked for, and > supposed he had only that which he 
had mentioned. 

Well, then, I must make up my mind to be an old woman,” 
said the Duchess, with a meditative air. 

Athos took her hand and kissed it. She sighed on looking 
at him. 

Count,” said she, your mansion at Bragelonne must be 
a charming one. You are a man of taste ; you must have 
wood, water, and flowers.” 

She sighed again, and rested her charming head on a hand 
coquettishly bent over, and still attractive from its form and 
whiteness. 

Madame,” replied the Count, “ what is it you have just 
said ? I never saw you looking so young or so beautiful.” 

The Duchess shook her head. 

“ Is M. de Bragelonne to remain in Paris ? ” said she. 

What do you think about it ? ” demanded Athos. 

Leave him with me,” replied the Duchess. 

Ko, madame. If you have forgotten the history of 
Œdipus, I have not.” 

Eeally you are quite charming. Count, and I should much 
like to pass a month at Bragelonne.” 

Are you not afraid of making me greatly envied ? ” 
gallantly replied Athos. 

No; I will go incognita, Count, under the name of Marie 
Michon.” 


788 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


You are quite adorable, madame.” 

But do not allow Raoul to remain with you.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

Because he is in love.” 

He — a little boy ! ” 

Therefore he is in love with a little girl.” 

Athos became thoughtful. 

You are right, Duchess. This singular love for a seven- 
year-old girl may one day make him very unhappy. There is 
to be a campaign in Tlandep ; he shall go there ! ” 

Then, on his return you shall send him to me, and I will 
cuirass him against love.” 

Alas, madame,” said Athos, “ in these days love is like 
war, and a cuirass is become perfectly useless.” 

At this moment Raoul made his appearance ; he came to 
inform the Duchess and the Count that his friend, the Comte 
de Giiiche, had told him that the solemn entrance of the King, 
the Queen, and the Minister was to take place the next day. 

The next morning, in fact, at daybreak, the Court made all 
its preparations to leave Saint Germain. On the previous 
evening the Queen had sent for D’Artagnan. 

Sir,” said she to him, ‘‘ I am assured that Paris is not 
quiet. I shall have some fears for the King ; therefore 
station yourself near the right door of the carriage.” 

Your Majesty may be perfectly easy,” said D’Artagnan ; 

I will answer for the King.” 

And bowing to the Queen he left the room. 

On leaving the Queen’s apartment, Bernouin came to inform 
D’Artagnan that the Cardinal was waiting for him on impor- 
tant business. 

He immediately went to his Excellence. 

‘‘ Sir,” said he, they talk of a commotion in Paris. I shall 
be on the King’s left ; and as I shall be the one principally 
threatened, station yourself at the left door of the carriage.” 

“ Your Eminence need not fear,” replied D’Artagnan ; 
^Hhey shall not touch one hair of your head.” 

“ Diable ! ” said he, when he had reached the ante-chamber, 

how shall I get out of this dilemma ? I cannot be both at 
the right and the left doors at the same time. Ah, bah Î I 
will guard the King, and Porthos shall guard the Cardinal.” 

This arrangement satisfied every one — a rare occurrence. 
The Queen had great confidence in D’Artagnan’s courage. 


THE KING REENTERS THE CAPITAL. 789 

which she well knew, and the Cardinal in Porthos’s strength, 
which he had felt. 

The cavalcade set off for Paris in an order arranged before- 
hand. Guitant and Comminges, at the head of the Guards, 
inarched in front; then came the royal carriage, having D’Arta- 
gnan at one of its doors and Porthos at the other ; then the 
Musketeers, those old friends of D’Artagnan’s, of twenty 
years’ standing, — their lieutenant for twenty years, their 
captain the evening before. 

On reaching the barrier the carriage was saluted by loud 
cries of Vive le roi ! ” and “ Vive la Peine ! ” Some few cries 
of “ Vive Mazarin ! ” were mingled with them, but they had no 
echoes. 

They went toward Notre-Dame, where a Te Deitm was to be 
sung. 

All the people of Paris were in the streets. The Swiss had 
been drawn up the whole length of the way ; but as the dis- 
tance was considerable, they Avere only placed at six or eight 
paces from each other, and in a single line. This rampart was 
therefore wholly insufficient, and, being occasionally broken 
through by a stream of people, was with great difficulty re- 
formed. 

At each rupture, although it was amicable and arose from 
the desire that the Parisians had to see their King, of whom 
they had been deprived for a year, Anne of Austria looked at 
D’Artagnan with some anxiety, and he encouraged her by a 
smile. 

Mazarin, who had spent about a thousand louis in making 
them cry ‘^Vive Mazarin! ” and who estimated the cries that 
he heard as not worth twenty pistoles, kept also looking at 
Porthos with great anxiety. But the gigantic body-guard 
answered this look with such a splendid bass voice — Make 
yourself easyf monsignor ” — that Mazarin became more and 
more tranquil. 

On reaching the Palais Poyal they found the crowd greater 
than ever. The streams from all the adjacent streets had here 
united, and all this vast population looked like an immense 
swollen river, coming to meet the carriage, and rolling tumult- 
uously along the Pue Saint Honoré. 

When they reached the square loud cries of Vive leurs 
Majestés ! ” resounded on every side. Three or four cries of 
Vive le Cardinal ! ” greeted his appearance ; but almost 


790 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


immediately hisses and hootings unmercifully smothered them. 
Mazarin turned pale and threw himself precipitately back in 
the carriage. 

Canaille ! ” muttered Porthos. 

D’Artagnan said nothing, but curled his mustache with a 
peculiar gesture, indicating that his Gascon temper was begin- 
ning to grow warm. 

Anne of Austria bent down to the young King’s ear, and 
said to him in a low voice : 

Make some gracious motion, and address a few words to 
M. D’Artagnan, my son.” 

The young King leaned toward the window. 

I have not yet wished you good morning. Monsieur D’Arta- 
gnan,” said he, ^^and yet I recognised you well enough. Yoi 
were behind the curtains of my bed that night when the Parisi- 
ans wished to see me asleep.” 

“ And if the King permits me,” said D’Artagnan, “ I will 
always be near him whenever there is any danger to be 
incurred.” 

“ Sir,’’ said Mazarin to Porthos, “ what would you do if all 
this rabble were to rush upon you ? ” 

“ I would kill as many as I could, monsignor,” replied 
Porthos. 

Hum ! ” said Mazarin ; “ brave and vigorous as you are, 
you could not kill them all.” 

That is true,” replied Porthos, raising himself in his 
stirrups, that he might the better survey the immensity of the 
throng, — “ it is true ; there are a great many of them.” 

‘‘ I think that I should like the other better,” said Mazarin. 
And he threw himself back in the carriage. 

The Queen and her Minister had reason to feel some anxiety, 
at least the latter. The crowd, while it retained all the appear- 
ances of respect and even of affection for the King and the 
Kegent, began to be tumultuously excited. Those dull mur- 
murs began to pervade it, which when they come from the 
waters indicate a storm, and when they come from the multi- 
tude portend insurrection. 

D’Artagnan turned round toward his Musketeers, and made 
them a sign, imperceptible to the multitude, but very intelligi- 
ble to these choice troops. 

The ranks of the horses closed up, and a slight murmur was 
heard among the men. 


791 


THE KING REENTERS THE CAPITAL. 

At the Barrière des Sergents they were obliged to halt. 
jComminges left the head of his escort and came to the Queen’s 
carriage. The Queen interrogated D’Artagnan by a glance, 
which he answered by the same language. 

“ Proceed ! ” said the Queen. 

Comminges resumed his post. An effort was made, and the 
living barrier was violently broken through. 

Some murmurs arose amid the crowd, which were now 
addressed to the King as well as to the Minister. 

“ Forward ! ” cried D’Artagnan, in a loud voice. 

“ Forward ! ” repeated Porthos. 

But as if the multitude had only been waiting for this dem- 
onstration to break out, all the feelings of hostility that it con- 
rtained burst forth at once. The cries of Down with Mazarin ! ” 

. Death to the Cardinal ! ” resounded on every side. 

At the same time, from the streets of Grenelle-Saint-Honorè 
aru • Dll Coq a doubie siicaiu rushed in, breahbig thr.>u^h the slen- 
der line of the Swiss Guards, and eanie like a tumultuous whirl- 
pool up to the very legs of D’Arî-agnan’s and l\)i tiios'. horses. 

7'his fresh irruption was. more dangerous thau.ibt .theis: 
f’oî- li; was com}>osed of ar’iued jLieiv»,and eve?ii.’bettei-;i,- u,: tPhaiX- 
the ppopic cv..'< ‘in similar cases. It was plainly peiroptibie, 
from this last moment, that it wa« not tJi*^ effect of chance 
th it had thus united a certain number of the ins irgents at the 
saoio but the ( >'-!nbination of a hos i’e luirsd that had 

orgaikx-ud an aitack. 

These two masses were each conducted by a leader : one of 
these appeared to belong, not to the dregs of the people, but 
even to the honourable corporation of the mendicants ; the 
other, in spite of his affectation of imitating the manners of 
the people, it was easy to discover was a gentleman. 

Both evidently acted under the same impulse. 

There was a violent shock, which was felt even to the royal 
carriage. Then thousands of cries, forming a vast clamour, 
were heard, interrupted by three or four shots. 

Forward, Musketeers ! ” cried D’Artagnan. 

The escort separated into two files : one passed to the right, 
the other to the left of the carriage. The one came to the 
assistance of D’Artagnan : the other supported Porthos. 

Then a skirmish commenced the more terrible as it had no 
definite object — the more melancholy, as it was not known 
for whom or what they were fighting. 


.792 


TWENTY YEARS 


FTER. 


CHAPTER XCVII. 

m WHICH IT IS PROVED THAT SOMETIMES IT IS MORE DIF- 
FICULT FOR KINGS TO REENTER THE CAPITAL OF THEIR 
REALM THAN TO LEAVE IT. {Continuation?) 

Like eCH movements of the people, the shock of this throng 
was terrible. The Musketeers, few in number, badly drawn 
up, and unable, in the midst of such a multitude, to manoeuvre 
their horses, began to be separated from one another. 

D’Artagnan had wished the hoods of the carriage to be 
lowered, but the King had stretched out his arm, saying : 

‘‘Ko, M. d’Artagnan ; I wish to see.” 

“ Your Majesty wishes to see ? ” said D’Artagnan ; “ well, 
then, let him look ! ” 

Mirbuig. with that fury which made him so terrible. 
^ ;v;*-nari irade his horse bound toward the leader of the 
a ■-u a. ; nts, who, a pistol in one hand and a broad sword in the 
. was. Aîideavouring to clear himself a passage, even to 
tv,' ..-”iage window; by struggUig -dith t.T-,.' Musketeers. 

“ td VC way, there ! ” shouted D’Arkignan. “ v,vl ; give 
w-Tv' ■ ' 

, Al lids vcpbe the man witli the pistol and the broad sword 
raised his head. But it was too late : D’Artagnan’s' blow was 
given, and his rapier had passed through his breast. 

“ Ah I ventre-saint-gris ! ” cried D’Artagnan, too late trying 
to withhold the blow, “ what the devil did you come here for. 
Count ? ” 

“ To accomplish my destiny,” said Rochefort, falling on one 
knee. “ I recovered from three of your sword-thrusts, but I 
shall not recover from the fourth.” 

“ Count,” said D’Artagnan, not without emotion, “ I struck 
without knowing that it was you. I shall regret, should you 
die, that you left the world with feelings of hatred toward me.” 

Rochefort held out his hand to D’Artagnan, who took it in 
his. The Count would have spoken, but a gush of blood sti- 
fled his voice. He stretched himself in a last convulsion, and 
expired. 

“ Back there, ye dogs ! ’’vshouted D’Artagnan. “ Your leader 
is dead, and you have nothing more to do here.” 

In fact, as if the Comte de Rochefort had been the soul of 


THE KING REËNTERS THE CAPITAL. 798 . 


; the attack that was made on this side of the King’s carriage, 
ail the crowd that had followed and obeyed him took to flight 
on seeing him fall. D’Artagnan made a charge with a score 
of his Musketeers in the Kne dn Coq, and this portion of the 
insurgents disappeared like smoke, scattering itself over the 
lhace Saint Germain-l’Anxerrois, and disappearing among 
the quays. 

D’Artagnan returned to carry assistance to Porthos, should 
he require it. But Porthos, on his part, had performed his 
work as conscientiously as D’Artagnan. The left of the 
carriage was as well cleared as the right, and they raised the 
hood on Mazariri’s side, who, less warlike than the King, had 
lowered it. 

Porthos had a very melancholy air. 

What an extremely odd face you are making there, Porthos, 
and what a singular air you have for a conqueror ! ” 

, But you yourself seem much agitated, D’Artagnan,” said 
■ Porthos. ' 

And reason enough for it, mordioux ! I have just killed 
an old friend.” 

Indeed ! said Porthos. And who was it ? ” 

That poor Comte de Rochefort ! ” 

“ Well, then, that is just my case. I have this moment 
killed some one whose face is familiar to me ; but unfortunately 
I struck him on the head, and in one moment his face was 
covered with blood.” 

And did he say nothing as he fell ? ” 

“Yes ; he said, ^ Ouf! ’ ” 

! “I can fancy,” said D’Artagnan, not being able to restrain 
his laughter, “ that if he did not say anything else, that could 
not much enlighten you on the subject.” 
j “ Well, sir ? ” demanded the Queen. 

I “ Madame,” said D’Artagnan, “ the way is perfectly clear, 
and your ITajesty may continue your progress.” 

*ln fact, the whole train reached Kotre Dame without further 
alcident. Cnder the gateway all the clergy, with the coadjutor 
at their head, were waiting for the King, the Queen, and the 
Ministf 1, feu* whose happy return they were going to chant the 
Te Deum. 

Duriug the service, and when it was drawing to a close, a 
street gamin entered the church as if frightened out of his 
wits, r.:ui To the sacristy, dressed himself hastily as a choir 


794 ■ ^ ‘ TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 

boy, and, thanks to the respectable dress that he had just put 
on, made his way through the crowd that encumbered the 
temple, and went up to Bazin, who, clothed in his blue gown 
and with his silver-tipped verge in his hand, was standing 
solemnly in front of the Swiss at the entrance of the choir. 

Bazin felt some one pull him by the sleeve. . Jie bent to 
earth his eyes, that were raised heavenward in a sanctified 
manner, and recognized Briquet. 

‘‘Well, you young rascal, what is the matter, that you dare 
to disturb me in the exercise of my functions ? ” demanded the 
beadle. 

“The matter is, M. Bazin,’’ said Briquet, “that M. Maillard, 
whom you know very well, — the giver of holy water at Saint 
Eustache ” — 

“ Well, what then ? ” 

“ Well, he has received a blow on the head, with a sword, in 
the tumult. That great giant you see there, with embroidery 
all over his seams, gave it him.” 

“Yes ? In that case he must be in a very bad state,” said 
Bazin. 

“ So much so that he is dying, and he would like, before he 
dies, to confess to the coadjutor, who has the power, it is said, 
of forgiving great sins.” 

“ And does he fancy that the coadjutor* will put himself out 
of the way for him ? ” 

“ Yes, certainly ; for it seems that the coadjutor promised 
him to do so.” 

“ And who told you this ? ” 

“ M. Maillard himself.” 

“ You have seen him, then ? ” 

^ V 

“ Certainly ; I was there when he fell.” 

“ And what were you doing there ? ” 

“ I was crying out ‘ Down with Mazarin ! ’ ‘ Death to the 
Cardinal !’ ‘To the gallows with the Italian ! ’ Was ‘not that 
what you told me to bawl out ?” 

“ Will you hold your tongue, you little rascal ! ’’ said Bazin, 
looking anxiously around him. 

“ So that that poor M. Maillard said to me : ‘ Go for the 
coadjutor, Briquet ; and if you bring him to me, I will make 
you my heir.’ Think, then. Bather Bazin, — the heir of M. 

"[Maillard, the distributor of holy water of Saint Eustache ! 
■ Baith, I shall have nothing more to do than cross my arms ! 


THE KING .LÈNTERS THE CAPITAL. 795 

Never mind, I would nevertheless render him this service ; 
what do you say. to it ? ” 

“ I will go and inform the coadjutor,” said Bazin ; and he 
went softly and respectfully up to the prelate, said some words 
into his ear, to which he answered by an affirmative ; and then, 
returning as softly as he had gone, he said : 

Go and tell the dying man to wait patiently ; his Excel- 
lence will be with him in an hour.” 

Good ! ” said Briquet ; “ my fortune is made.” 

‘‘ By the "way,” said Bazin, “ where did he have th m carry 
him ? ” 

“ To the tower of Saint- Jacques-la-Boucherie.” 

And, enchanted at the success of his embassy, Friqu^t, with- 
out taking off his chorister’s dress, which, moreover, gave him a 
greater facility of getting about, hurried from the cathedral, 
and took the road to the tower of Saint- Jacques-la-Boucherie 
as fast as he could. 

As soon as the Te Deum was finished the coadjutor, as he 
had promised, and without even putting off his priestly robes, 
proceeded toward the old tower that he knew so well. 

He arrived in time. Although growing momentarily weaker 
and weaker, the wounded man was not yet dead. 

The door was opened for him into the room where the medi- 
cant was in the last agonies'. 

A minute after. Briquet came out, holding a large leathern 

•• in his hand, which he opened the moment he was outside 
tnc room, and which, to his utter astonishment, he found to be 
full of gold. 

'he mendicant had kept his word, and had made him his heir. 
Ah, Mother Nannette ! ” screamed out Briquet, almost 

' ocated, — ah. Mother Nannette ! ” 

He could say no more ; but the strength which failed him 
in ; peech .left him the power of action. He began running 
desperately homeward ; and like the Greek of Marathon fall- 
on the square at Athens with his laurel in his hand, Bri- 
q u t reached the threshold of the Councilor Broussel, and on 
r< Î îhing it fell down, scattering on the carpet the louis-d’or 
vviiich rolled out of the bag. . 

Mother Nannette first picked up the louis, and then she 
_,>!cked up Briquet. 

In the meantime the grand procession was entering the 
Balais Eoyal. 


796 


TWENTY YEARS AFTER. 


“ That M. d’Artagnan is a very valiant man, my mother,’’ 
said the young King. 

Yes, my son, and he did your father good service. Make 
much of him for the future.” - 

“ Monsieur le Capitaine,” said the young King to D’Arta- 
gnan, as he got out of his carriage, Madame the Queen 
desires me to invite you, and your friend, the Baron du Vallon, 
to dinner to-day.” 

This was a great honour for D’Artagnan and Porthos, and 
Porthos was quite transported. Nevertheless, throughout the 
whole of the repast the worthy gentleman appeared to have his 
mind greatly preoccupied. 

But what was the matter with you, Baron ? ” asked D’ Arta- 
gnan, as they descended the staircase . of the Palais Boyal ; 
‘‘ you looked greatly worried during the dinner ! ” 

“ I was trying to find out,” said Porthos, where in the 
world 1 had seen that mendicant whom I must have killed.” 

And you could not manage it ? ” 

a 

Well, then, try and find it out, my friend ; and when y 
have discovered it, you will tell me, will you not ? ” 

Pardieu ! ” said Porthos. 


CHAPTEK XCVIII. 

CONCLUSION. 

On returning home the two friends found a letter f om 
Athos, making an appointment with them at the Grand-Cha/le- 
magne for the next morning. 

They both went to bed early, but neither of them co ild 
sleep. It is impossible to obtain the object of all your desi; 
without its having the effect of driving away sleep, at least ' ir 
the first night. 

The next day, at the hour appointed, they went to Ath()s^=^ 
Apartment, where they found the Count and Aramis in tra ' 
ling dresses. 

W ell,” said Porfhos, so we are all going, are we ? li Iso 
have packed up my luggage this morning.” ^ 

Oh, moil Dieu ! yes,” said Aramis ; “ there is nothing n «ne 


CONCLUSION, 


m 


to do in Paris, since the Fronde no longer exists. Madame de 
Longueville has invited me to pass a few days in Normandy, 
and has commissioned me, while her son is baptised, to go and 
secure lodgings for her at Rouen. I am going to perform this 
commission ; and then, should nothing new hapMn, 1 shall go 
and bury myself again in the convent at Noisyde-Sec.” 

And I,’* said Athos, ‘<am going back to Bragelonne. You 
. know well enough, my dear D’Artagnan, that 1 an\ no longer 
' anything more than a good and honest countryman. Raoul has 
no other fortune than my own, poor boy I and I must go and 
take care of it, since I am in some sort only a tenant for life.” 

And what do you mean to do with Raoul ? ” 

“ I leave him with you, my friend. There is going to be a 
campaign in Flanders, and you will take him with you. I fear 
that a sojourn at Blois might be dangerous to his young head. 
I Take him with yoii, then, and teach him to be as brave and as 
loyal as yourself.” 

And as for me,” said D’Artagnan, “ I shall no longer have 
you with me, Athos ; but I shall have this dear fair-haired 
boy ; and although he is but a child, as your soul completely 
revives in him I shall always fancy that you are with me, 
accompanying and ’supporting me.” 

^ The four friends embraced, with tears in their eyes. 

Then they separated, without knowing whether they should 
ever meet again. 

D’Artagnan returned to the Rue Tiquetonne with Porthos, 
who was still meditating, and (ionstantly trying to recollect who 
the man was whom he had killed. On coming opposite the 
Hôtel de la Chevrette, they saw the baron’s equipage ready 
. and Mousqueton in the saddle. 

j Come, D’Artagnan,” said Porthos, leave the sword, and 
i live with me at Pierrefonds, at Bracieux, or at le Vallon ; we 
1 . will grow old together in talking of our comrades.” 

^‘No,” said D’Artagnan; « Peste I they are just going to 
open the campaign, and 1 must be there. I hope to gain 
something.” 

** And what, pray, do you hope to become ? ” 

“ A marshal of France, pardieu I ” 

« Aha I ” said Porthos, looking at D’Artagnan, whose gas- 
conades he could never thoroughly understand. 

** Come with me, Porthos,” said D’Artagnan ; “ I will make 
you a duke,” 


798 


• - - ■ -, r 

TW E STY YEARS AFTER. 

y 

“ No/' said Porthos, “ Moiiston does not wish for anv more 
campaigns. Besides, they have arranged a solemn entrance 
for me into my estate, which will make all my neighbours 
burst with envy.” 

That being the case, I have nothing more to say,” replied 
D^Vrtagnan, who knew the new banm's vanity. “ Au revoir, 
then, my friend.” 

“ .\u revoir, my <lear captain,” said Porthos. “ Yon know 
that when you wûsh to see me, you will be always most welcome 
in my bart>ny.” j 

Yes,” said D'Artagnan, on my return from the campaign 
I will come down.” i 

“The baron's e<|uipages await him,” said Mous<iueton. 

And the two friends separatetl, after shaking hands. | 
D'Artagnan remaine<l at the dtx>r, watching with a melancholy | 
eye the departure of Porthos. 

But at the end of twenty pai’es Porthos pulled up short, 
struck his haml against his forehead, and returned. i 

“ I remember now,” said he. 

“ What?” tasked IVArtagnan. 

“ Who that mendh‘ant was that I slew.” 

“ Ah, really ? And who w'îw he ? '' 

“ It was that dog of a Bonacieux.” 

And Porthos, delighteil at having his mind free, rejoined 
Mous(|ueton, with w'hom he disappeared roimd the comer of 
the 8trei>t 

D’Artagnan remaine<l pensive and motionless for a minute. 
Then turning round he saw; the fair Madeline standing at the | 
threshold, in some disquietude on account of his recent exalta* I 
tion. I 

“ Madeline,” said the Gasotm, “ give me the apartment on 
the first floor. I must make some show, now that I am Cap* I 
tain of the Musketeers. But still keep the chamber in the | 
fifth story vacant for me. There is no knowing what may . j 
happen.” j 


THE END. 


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